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MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


THE 


MARJORY-JOE SERIES 

BY 


ALICE E. ALLEN 


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Marjory, the Circus Girl . 

$1.50 

Marjory at the Willows 

1.50 

Marjory’s House Party 

1.65 

Joe, the Circus Boy— Rosemary 

1.65 

The Martie Twins .... 

1.50 

ttr 


THE PAGE COMPANY 

53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. 







$4*fc V ' 


ifTv 


, L''* N/ 


“ Marjory stood all alone in the big field.” 

(See page 44) 



MARJORY’S 
HOUSE PARTY 


®s 

ALICE E. ALLEN 

Author of 

“ Marjory, the Circus Girl,” 4 ‘ Marjory at the Willows,” 
"Joe, the Circus Boy — Rosemary,” "The Martie Twins,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 
l Bu 

ELIZABETH R. WITHINGTON 


ssa 


THE PAGE COMPANY 

BOSTON £ MDCCCCXXI 






Copyright , 1921, by 
The Page Company 


All rights reserved 


First Impression, September, 1921 



PRINTED BY C. H. SIMONDS COMPANY 
BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A. 


OCT - I ia2 


g)Cl. A627080 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Looking-Glass Dog .... i 

II Jingle, Bells 21 

III Susy’s Family 41 

IV Vive La France 61 

V A Winter Picnic 76 

VI Fritz Plans a House Party ... 88 

VII The Fifth Christmas Tree . . 108 

VIII Snow-Bound 124 

IX The New Baby 136 

X Johnny’s Trousers 150 

XI Fritz Meets an Enemy . . . .167 

XII Little Annie Comes to Clover 

Patch . 185 

XIII The Fritz Book 203 

XIV An Army with Banners . . . .219 

XV Aunt Minty Goes Away .... 234 

XVI The Bicycle Girl 250 

XVII An Indian Village 265 

XVIII A Four Leaf Clover 282 

XIX Fritz Holds a Reception . . .301 


# 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

“ Marjory stood all alone in the big 

field/’ (See page 44) . Frontispiece 

“ Marjory slipped her hand into Grand- 
ma’s muff ” . . . .29 

“ ‘ He wants us to come in,’ said Lissy ” . 64 

“ She flickered and twinkled and sent 

OUT RAYS AS SHE SPUN ABOUT ” . . Il8 

“ * If you took Effie’s bonnet and hid it 

AWAY LIKE THAT, WHY NOT JOHNNY’S 

trousers?’” 159' 

“ In the midst op his fierce war-paint, 

THE man’s EYES TWINKLED ” . . 27 3 






\ 


ADarjotE’s Ibouse pnxty 

CHAPTER I 

THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 

JUST can’t wait to get there,” cried 

■ Marjory. She hopped along through 
the great city station so fast that her 
golden curls under her dark fur cap hopped 
too. “Can you?” 

“I don’t know,” said Lissy, her cheeks 
blazing with hurry and excitement. “I’m 
just wild to get there and see them all, and 
I just can’t bear to get there and have the 
journey all over with.” 

“You’re so funny, Lissy,” said Roger. 

Many people turned to look and smile at 
the happy little group. It was so Christ- 
1 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


masy, somehow, each of its members wear- 
ing a bit of holly. There was a big jolly 
man, who was Marjory’s adopted father, 
Mr. Brook. The little girl, on one side of 
him, was Marjory Brook herself. The 
taller one, on the other side, was Marjory’s 
sister, Lissy Penny. The pale-faced boy, 
with dark glasses, was Roger Kent. 

It was the day after Christmas. The 
station was like a child all tired out with its 
Christmasing, but still holding fast to its 
beloved gifts. There were packages every- 
where — in people’s arms, on the seats, even 
in great piles on the floor. At every breath 
of wind from opening doors red and green 
papers flew up and scurried madly about. 
Sprays of fading holly, bits of evergreen, 
tangled tinsel-cords, and long ends of ribbon 
showed in most unexpected places. A 
candy-box, spilling out sweets, lay discon- 
2 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 

solately on a seat, waiting for some one to 
come back for it. A tiny stocking lay for- 
gotten on the floor. Hung on the arm of a 
seat was a broken candy-cane. 

“What I can’t see,” said Marjory, as the 
children found seats, and Mr. Brook went 
to the ticket-office, “is why Joe and Betty 
and the others aren’t going. Mr. Blake 
sounded so mysterious.” 

“Something very unexpected happened at 
the very last minute, I suppose,” said Lissy. 

“Well, I’m glad something didn’t happen 
at any minute to keep us from going,” 
cried Marjory. “I couldn’t have stood it, 
could you?” 

“Maybe we could,” said Roger gravely. 
“But I’m glad we didn’t have to, Mar.” 

“Here’s Daddy with our tickets,” cried 
Marjory. She ran to meet her father and 
hurried him back to the others. “You’re 
3 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


going to carry them, Roger, because you’re 
the man of the party. Hurry, Lissy.” 

“Your train doesn’t leave for twenty 
minutes,” laughed her father. 

“Never mind,” said Marjory, still cling- 
ing to her father, and now hurrying him 
along toward the great train-shed. “Every- 
one hurries in this station. We’ll just have 
to keep up.” 

They hurried. They went out of the 
tired-looking station into the dark train- 
yard, where trains could be heard whistling, 
letting off steam, and doing all sorts of 
strange things. Long lines of people 
waited for gates to open. Their gate was 
up, and a man stood there, calling off the 
names of the stations at which the train 
would stop. When Marjory heard “Ridge- 
wood,” echoing through the train-shed, she 
hurried her father faster than ever. 


4 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 


“It sounds so good,” she cried. “Only, 
Daddy, I do wish you were going, too.” 

They went along the side of a train of 
day-coaches till they came at last to the 
chair-car. Here, the porter helped them 
aboard, found chairs for them, and took 
care of their baggage. Daddy told this 
same porter all about them, and where they 
were to get off. He slipped something into 
the big hand which brought a broad grin 
to the black face. 

“Yes suh, yes suh!” he said several times. 

Then Daddy kissed Marjory twice and 
Lissy twice and shook hands with Roger, 
just as if he was quite grown up, and told 
him to look carefully after the ladies. 
Marjory went all the way with Daddy to 
the door. When at last she came back, her 
face was a little sober, as it always was when 
she left Daddy. But it brightened quickly, 
5 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


as they arranged their seats. Roger wanted 
to sit in the middle one of the three 
chairs. 

“Then I can look after you both,” he 
explained. 

On each side of them, trains whistled 
and shrieked. Clouds of steam whitened 
the windows. After what seemed a long 
while to the eager little travelers, their 
train made up its mind to start. 

It said several shrill good-bys to the 
other trains. Outside, trainmen called, 
“All aboard!” inside, porters called again 
the names of stations. Chairs filled up. 
Breathless people hurried in. 

There was great bustle. Doors banged. 
There were more shouts, strange grindings 
and clankings, important whistles, furious 
blasts of steam. By and by, there came 
a slow, easy, gliding movement. 

6 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 


This time, it was really their own train, 
not the one next to it, that went out of the 
train-shed. 

Lissy, feeling very important, sank back 
in her chair. She found herself staring 
straight into a great plate-glass mirror at 
the end of the car. And in that mirror she 
saw a sudden vision of a dog with a funny 
face, half brown, half white. He showed 
for a half-minute in the looking-glass, then 
he was gone. Then he showed for an even 
briefer time, as if he pulled frantically at 
a lead. Then he disappeared, and didn’t 
come back. 

“Fritz,” cried Lissy. She flew round in 
her seat. The train slid into the long tun- 
nel. Lissy grabbed and caught Roger’s 
head. 

“Fritz?” he cried pulling away. 

“Fritz?” cried Marjory at the same 
7 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


minute somewhere in the dark back of 
Roger. “Where, Lissy?” 

“Just you wait till we get out of this 
tunnel,” said Lissy, much excited. “You'll 
see!” 

The long tunnel ‘had never seemed so 
long. Every time an opening let in a little 
light, the three little folks bobbed up, and 
every time the light went, they bobbed 
down, for all the world like three jumping- 
jacks. 

When at last the coach swung out into 
broad daylight again, all three were kneel- 
ing in their chairs facing toward the back of 
the car. But all there was to see was the 
line of red plush chairs, each holding a man, 
woman, or child. There was no dog any- 
where. 

“I saw him just as plain in that looking- 
glass,” said Lissy, “tugging and pulling as 
hard as he could.” 


8 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 


“Who was with him?” said Marjory. 

“Somebody’s back,” said Lissy. “It 
could have been Joe’s or most anybody’s. 
I couldn’t see anything plainly but the 
dog.” 

“It couldn’t have been Fritz,” said Roger. 
“It just looked like him.” 

“You were thinking of him,” said Mar- 
jory, “and just thought you saw him. I 
often do that.” 

“I saw a dog,” said Lissy positively. 
“All brown and white and jumpy like 
Fritz.” 

“It couldn’t have been,” said Roger, in 
his funny decided little way. 

Lissy was so sure that when the porter 
came along she asked him if there wasn’t 
a big brown and white terrier on the train. 

“We don’t carry dogs,” he said grinning. 

“So, you see, Lissy,” said Marjory. 

9 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Lissy set her lips tight together. She 
didn’t say any more. But it was easy to 
see she wasn’t one bit convinced. Every 
time the door back of them opened, she 
turned around to see if, maybe, Fritz wasn’t 
coming in. Between times she kept her 
eyes fixed on the mirror. 

By and by the mirror began to give back 
to her such charming bits of sky and moun- 
tains that she turned to the window to see 
for herself just what was outside. And 
there was the blue river and the high snow- 
topped mountains. 

“Don’t the mountains look just like old 
friends?” said Marjory. 

“Remember the day we quarreled about 
the Hudson and the St. Lawrence, Mar?” 
said Roger. 

“Wasn’t it hot?” cried Marjory. “And 
wasn’t that an awful storm? And then we 
10 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 


got lost, and Granny and Lissy came with 
the pony and found us.” 

When Marjory Brook and Lissy Penny 
and Roger Kent began remembering the 
good times they’d had, the summer before, 
at The Willows where the two little girls’ 
grandmothers lived, it took some time. 
Marjory had gone first, all by herself, not 
knowing the Grandmothers at all, to visit 
them. She had found Roger at the big 
summer hotel, having a dismal time because 
his eyes were giving out and there wasn’t 
much he could do without pain. Then 
Lissy had come. 

And they had met all over again their 
old friends, Joel Bernard, Betty Blake, 
Nancy Spindle, the Martie Twins, and the 
runaway dog, Fritz, touring through the 
mountains with Uncle Ben Baker. 

Jn the midst of the good times the great 
11 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


war had broken out in Europe. Roger’s 
cousin, Dick Carr, his only relative and 
guardian, was a Canadian. So he had 
sailed overseas. Marjory’s father had taken 
Roger into his own home in the city. He 
was having his eyes treated by a great 
specialist, who promised the boy they would 
be quite well again if he could be patient 
long enough. 

Lissy, whose own home was the Penny 
Bank, a great rambling country-house, was 
spending the winter with her brother John 
Penny and his wife Doris, and going to 
school with Marjory. And now, the three 
were on their way to spend the rest of 
their holiday vacation with the grand- 
mothers at The Willows. 

While all these things were being talked 
over, the long train kept on its way through 
the bright, beautiful river valley. 

12 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 

Tiny villages it passed with just a wave 
of smoke. At some of the towns, it stopped 
to say, “How do you do?” At the great 
cities, it staid long enough for a little 
friendly conversation. 

Villages, towns, cities — the train knew 
them all well. For up and down, up and 
down the broad, bright valley it went, al- 
ways fluttering its pretty smoke wreaths, 
always sending out its shrill challenging 
whistles. 

By and by, the porter came and took 
them all into the big diner for dinner. And 
when they came back to their seats, they 
all set up a cry of delight. For outside, 
the landscape, that had been so dull and 
brown, was soft pure white. And more 
snow came all the time. 

“Oh dear,” said Marjory softly. “How 
I’m ever going to get this lovely soft snow 
13 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


and the clouds and the woods and every- 
thing into my book, I don’t see.” 

Lissy and Roger knew all about the book 
Marjory was going to write, just as soon 
as Roger’s eyes would let him make pictures 
for it. 

“Have you decided yet, Margie, just what 
it’s going to be about?” asked Lissy anxious- 
ly. Marjory hadn’t been able, a few days 
before, to make up her mind whether to 
write a fairy story or a love story. 

“I think now,” said Marjory slowly, “it 
will be about Fritz.” 

“Oh splendid!” cried Lissy. She gave 
a quick half-glance toward that mirror 
where she still felt sure Fritz ought to 
be. 

“I’ll begin it,” said Marjory, “with his 
coming into the circus and finding Joe 
there, and Joe’s running away from the 
14 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 


circus and getting acquainted with Betty, 
and Fritz’s coming back to them.” 

“Then you must tell about how he helped 
Joe and Nancy Spindle find Martin that 
summer he was lost,” said Lissy. “I al- 
ways liked that.” 

“Be sure and put in about the summer 
you lived at Overbrook, Mar, so near Lissy, 
and you didn’t know you were sisters, and 
how you stayed awhile with those gypsies,” 
said Roger. 

“It’s going to be a splendid book,” cried 
Lissy. 

“But isn’t it too bad,” said Marjory,” 
that we can’t know just what Fritz did 
when he was a puppy before he got into 
that circus?” 

“Couldn’t you make up that part, Mar- 
gie?” said Lissy. 

“People do make up the things they put 
15 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


in books, you know. Doris knows a woman 
who writes lovely grown-up stories. She 
comes to the house and reads them aloud to 
Doris. And you’d think everything in 
them really happened. But they’re made 
up — she said so, herself — right out of her 
own head.” 

“Of course, I could do that,” said Marjory 
doubtfully. “But it would be ever so much 
nicer if I could find out what he really 
and truly did.” 

“How could you?” cried Lissy. 

“I couldn’t,” said Marjory. “Joe says 
he’s tried and Betty’s tried and Nancy 
Spindle and the Marties and Uncle Ben. 
Why Uncle Ben even wrote letters to some 
of those old circus people to see if they 
knew. But his letters all came back to 
him. No one knows where Fritz was be- 
fore he came into the circus — why Lissy 
16 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 

Penny, isn’t that the Ridgewood bridge?” 

At that very moment, the porter spoke 
to them from the aisle. 

“Here’s where you-all gets off,” he said. 
“Plenty of time, plenty of time,” he added, 
as three little folks all reached for their 
wraps and tried to get into them at once. 

There was just time enough for every one 
to find which particular coat and bag and 
umbrella belonged to him. Then the train 
stopped. The porter helped them down 
the steps, and there was Wesley, Grandma 
Beach’s man, smiling at them. 

“I came for you,” he began, when he was 
interrupted by a sharp little neigh and a 
brisk little “Whoa!” And next minute, 
from somewhere there came a little girl 
with cheeks as red as her coat and hood 
and -mittens. 

“We almost didn!t get here,” she called. 

17 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“But we did — so never mind.” 

“Why, it’s Susy,” cried Marjory. “Susy, 
here are Lissy Penny and Roger Kent. 
They know Molly if they don’t know you — 
did you bring Molly?” 

“Molly brought me,” laughed Susy. 
“She’s right over there. We had to stop 
to tell the Grandmas we were coming for 
you. Wesley had started, but they said 
never mind, he could bring home the lug- 
gage. There’s room for us all in my little 
new Christmas cutter that your Grandmas 
gave me if we sit tight. It’s red — 
see — ’cause Molly and I both like red best. 
Isn’t it dear? And see the blankets? It’s 
just about the loveliest Christmas present I 
ever had. Get in, now — Wesley boost.” 

Wesley boosted. He packed them in 
and tucked them up in the warm new 
Christmas robes. Every one’s cap was 
18 


THE LOOKING-GLASS DOG 

pulled down and collar turned up, and mit- 
tens put on. Lissy was on one side, Roger 
on the other. Marjory sat in the middle, 
holding Susy, and peering out one side or 
the other every minute to see if everything 
in Ridgewood looked just as it had last 
summer. Susy drove Molly. Molly 
turned around and looked them all over 
in the friendliest fashion. She had known 
them all well the summer before, for Mar- 
jory had kept her while Susy went on a 
long visit to California. When Molly was 
sure every one was quite ready, she started 
out briskly, her little new bells jing-jin- 
gling. 

“Isn’t it Christmasy?” began Marjory. 

“Hark a minute, please,” cried Lissy 
grabbing Susy. “I thought I heard Fritz 
bark.” 


19 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“It couldn’t be Fritz, Lissy,” said Roger. 
“It was just some other dog.” 

“It sounded like Fritz,” said Lissy. 
“And he doesn’t sound like any other dog.” 


20 


CHAPTER II 


JINGLE, BELLS 

^TT TT TTHY, it’s all ice,” cried Mar- 
\/ V jory, when the jingle bells 
brought them in sight of the 
river between the trees. 

“What else could it be?” laughed Susy. 
“The boys say it’s grand skating. But 
mother won’t let me skate on the river. 
She thinks it’s too dangerous. I skate on 
our pond, though, and I can ski and snow- 
shoe.” 

“I can ski,” said Roger. 

“I can’t even snowshoe,” said Marjory. 
“Oh, what lots and lots of snow — much 
more than at Overbrook, Lissy.” 

“Jingle, jingle, jingle,” said Molly’s bells 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


as they sped along the smooth white road. 
“Jingle, jingle, jingle!” just as if they knew 
it was the Christmas season. And by and 
by, Marjory, peeping eagerly around Susy’s 
back, saw a long white bridge, a broad white 
yard, bare willows with branches black 
against a flaming sunset sky, and there was 
the House of the Grandmothers, with 
lighted -windows and an opening door. 
Celia, Grandma Beach, Great-Aunt Eunice, 
and little Great-Granny were all in the 
doorway, smiling and excited. Molly jin- 
gled up to the steps, and, next minute, every 
one tumbled out of the cutter, talking, 
laughing, getting out of wraps, and flock- 
ing into the warm bright dining-room. 

Molly wouldn’t take a step toward the 
barn. She just stood outside and called for 
her sugar-lumps. And Celia ran out with 
some, so excited over the arrival of the 
22 


JINGLE, BELLS 


children that she took the best egg-shell 
china bowl with her — the one that had been 
in the family longer even than little Granny. 

“We must hurry right along,” said Susy. 
“It’s getting dark.” 

“You are to make us a little visit, Susan,” 
said Grandma Beach in her stateliest man- 
ner. “I have telephoned your mother, and 
you and Molly are to spend Sunday with 
us. I know my little grand-daughters and 
Roger want to see you.” 

“Isn’t your Grandma Beach just lovely?” 
whispered Susy to Lissy. “I’d be almost 
afraid to be her grand-daughter, but I love 
to look at her.” 

“So do I,” said Lissy, smiling at her tall 
handsome grandmother. “And I’m not a 
bit afraid of her, now that I know her,” she 
added. 

Such a supper party as that was in the 
23 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


firelit, lamplit dining-room. All the old- 
fashioned china was out to hold the good 
things Celia had made. 

Almost everything that Lissy liked best, 
and Marjory liked best, and Roger liked 
best, was there. It wasn’t much like the 
first dull quiet meals Marjory had known 
in that house. The children laughed and 
talked as much as they wanted to. Al- 
though she couldn’t hear a word, Aunt 
Eunice nodded and beamed at them. 
Granny chuckled and patted Marjory’s 
hand, and seemed the youngest and gayest 
of any one. And Grandma Beach poured 
the cocoa and tea, and smiled her best story- 
book smile. 

After supper, Granny ran to the doors of 
the living-room, which all this time had 
been closed. With Celia’s help, she flung 
them wide open. 


24 


JINGLE, BELLS 

And there beside the open fire, which 
roared its jolly welcome, was a tall Christ- 
mas Tree, trimmed with cones and pop- 
corn, and sparkling with tiny colored 
tapers. 

The fruits of the Tree, of course, were 
gifts. Susy’s had been the little red cutter. 
It had been given to her early, so that they 
might all have the fun of riding in it. And 
there were snowshoes for Marjory, Lissy, 
and Roger. Aunt Eunice’s skillful fingers 
had been busy. She had made wonderful 
strings of beads for the little girls — Mar- 
jory’s yellow, Lissy’s blue, and Susy’s red. 
She had knit a fine warm muffler for Roger 
in the khaki-color he liked. Marjory and 
Lissy and Roger all had gifts for the Grand- 
mothers, too, and for Celia and Wesley and 
Susy and Molly. And all these had to be 
brought in, undone, and exclaimed over. 

25 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“Isn’t Christmas too lovely?” cried Susy. 
She was strutting about like some Indian 
Princess, everybody’s beads wound round 
and round her bobbed black hair. “And 
some day while you’re here, you’re coming 
up to my house. Our house isn’t old-fash- 
ioned and fine and full of wonderful things 
like this one, of course, but there are my 
sister Jeanne, brother Phil, and the baby. 
And it’s lots of fun.” 

“It sounds like the Penny Bank,” said 
Lissy. “That’s my very own home, you 
know. It’s always been brimful of child- 
ren. We all went there for Christmas Eve 
and had a Tree for my little stepbrothers 
and sister. Then, last night, we had a 
wonderful one at Marjory’s home in the 
city. And to-night we have this one.” 

“This is all Granny’s plan,” said Celia. 
“There hasn’t been a Tree in this house 
26 


JINGLE, BELLS 

before, since your mother left it, Miss 
Lissy.” 

“Time there was, time there was,” cried 
Granny, unexpectedly hearing as was her 
way. “When grandchildren and Christmas 
come together, there’s bound to be a Tree. 
Margaret likes it, herself.” She nodded 
her pretty silvery head at Grandma 
Beach. 

Grandma Beach did seem to be having a 
good time in her own quiet way. Lissy’s 
father had sent her a beautiful purple 
sweater which she was already wearing. 

“I can’t think of a Christmas without a 
Tree or two,” said Marjory. 

“I can,” said Lissy. “I can remember 
several when we had only a row of stock- 
ings — and not much in them either. But 
we had good times just the same. That 
was before I knew you, Margie,” she added. 

27 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


Just here, Grandma Beach happened to 
glance at the clock. 

“It’s bedtime for young people,” she said. 

A little bed had been set up in Marjory’s 
room so that the three little girls could 
sleep together. It was such fun. Celia 
had to come in two or three times to tell 
them they must stop talking and go to sleep 
or they’d never be ready for all the good 
times to come. 

The next day was a beautifully blue and 
white Sunday, sparkling with sunbeams and 
Christmas cheer. In the morning, every 
one but Celia and Granny went to church. 
It was a tiny little church standing all by 
itself in a great grove of evergreen trees. 
And it was so full of Christmas greens that 
it seemed like going to church in the winter 
woods, Lissy said. 

On the way home Roger and Marjory 
28 



“ Marjory slipped her hand into Grandma’s muff.” 





JINGLE, BELLS 

walked one on each side of Grandma Beach. 
Lissy and Susie came behind with Aunt 
Eunice. Marjory slipped her hand into 
Grandma’s muff and found Grandma’s 
hand waiting there for her just like a story- 
book grandmother’s. It gave her courage 
to ask the things they’d all been wanting to 
ask ever since they had come to The Wil- 
lows. 

“Grandma Beach,” she said, “while 
we’re here, can’t we, please, go up to Good 
Times Camp?” 

Roger and Lissy and Susy all held their 
breaths for Grandma’s answer. But all she 
said was: 

“Good Times Camp? Why my dear , in 
the middle of the winter?” 

And put that way, it did seem an im- 
possible thing to do. Good Times Camp 
was a little shooting-lodge ’way up on the 
29 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


mountain. It belonged to a big club in 
New York of which Marjory’s father was a 
member. Roger and Marjory had found 
it the summer before, and had set up house- 
keeping there. When Lissy had come, she 
had loved it almost as much as they did. 

All their things had been left there in 
the fall. 

“It does seem as if we must go there now 
we’re so near,” said Lissy when they had 
reached home and Grandma Beach bad 
gone to see Celia about dinner. 

“I don’t see why we can’t go,” said Roger 
disgustedly. “The snow can’t be very 
deep.” 

“Daddy said we might ask Grandma 
Beach. But we must do just whatever she 
said,” said Marjory. “So of course we 
can’t go. But I am dreadfully disappointed 
— and Susy’s never even seen it.” 

30 


JINGLE, BELLS 


After dinner, all the little folks went out 
into the big yard to try their new snowshoes. 
Susy and Roger and Lissy all knew how to 
use them. And Marjory soon learned. 
When they went back into the house, there 
was Granny in her soft black silk gown, 
with a sparkling comb in her pretty hair, 
and sparkles to match in her lovely old 
eyes. 

“You’re all invited upstairs to my room,” 
she said. 

It was the first time Susy had ever been 
in Granny’s quaint, old-fashioned attic 
room. The others could scarcely wait to 
see it again. When they were all inside 
and the door closed, Lissy drew a deep 
breath. 

“It’s just exactly the same,” she said softly. 

YVci§ so afraid it would look different 
somehow. It does seem,” she added, “as 
31 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


if you stepped back a hundred years when 
you come in here and shut the door.” 

Granny bustled about, as pleased and 
excited as a child. 

“This is to be a fancy-dress party*” she 
said. “Each find a costume.” 

“Where?” asked Susy, looking anxiously 
at her middy and skirt. 

“Just wait till you see the inside of Gran- 
ny’s trunks,” whispered Marjory. “They 
are stuffed full of costumes.” 

Sure enough they were — the trouble was 
there were too many to choose from. But 
after many giggles and whispers behind the 
screens, a gorgeous little procession came 
out and marched to Granny to shake hands 
in the quaint formal way she remembered 
and loved. 

, “I started in to be Martha Washington,” 
said Susy, as she dropped her courtesy. 

32 


JINGLE, BELLS 

“But there were so many pretty things — I 
don’t look much like her, do I?” 

Susy was a funny little figure. She wore 
a stiff brocaded brown silk dress that would 
stand without her inside it at all. It had a 
great deal too much skirt and not anywhere 
near enough waist. Over it, she wore a 
wonderful wrap which Granny called a 
pelisse. It was lined elegantly with claret 
colored satin. She had added enough 
jewelry for a Spanish dancer, and at the 
last minute, she had found a scarlet silk 
sash with long fringe which she had tied 
about her head. 

“I don’t know just who I am either,” 
said Roger anxiously. “But isn’t it a fine 
costume, Granny?” 

Roger really looked well in his long cape 
with its scarlet lining turned out, his jaunty 
33 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


felt hat, with its drooping scarlet feather, 
and his sword. 

“The sword was your great-grandfather’s, 
Margie,” said Granny, touching it lovingly. 
“It was in the Revolutionary War.” 

“Mistress Betsy Ross,” said the next 
little figure demurely. 

It was Lissy transformed into the dearest 
little Quaker lady. 

Her gown was soft shimmering silk of 
dull blue-gray. Her dark hair was parted 
primly under its lace cap. She wore a 
lace kerchief. And her bonnet was a real 
Quaker bonnet. 

“It’s very becoming to you, Lissy,” cried 
Granny, her old eyes twinkling. 

“I feel as if I could make a Flag this 
very minute,” said Lissy. “But isn’t Mar- 
jory too sweet for anything?” she added 
in a whisper as Marjory came forward. 

34 


JINGLE, BELLS 


“Mistress Dolly Madison/’ she said with 
her daintiest courtesy. 

Marjory had found her costume folded 
away by itself in a white box that smelled 
faintly of faded roses. Her dress was soft 
rosy silk with low neck and puffs for 
sleeves. Over it was a lovely shawl with 
long fringe. On her head was a great white 
straw bonnet with rose-colored facing and 
long ostrich feathers to match. One golden 
curl lay over her shoulder. She carried 
a great rosy feather fan. 

“Oh Granny,” she cried. “Isn’t this the 
dearest costume? Whose was it?” 

“I wore it once, child,” said Granny. 
She fingered the soft old silk fondly. “It 
was at a fancy-dress affair, and I met your 
great-grandfather. Only he wasn’t a grand- 
father then, just a tall big boy with hand- 
some dark eyes. And he said, ‘May I have 
35 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


this dance, Mistress Margaret?' And I 
said, ‘You may, with pleasure.' " 

When Granny spoke for great-grand- 
father, she laid her bit of a hand on her 
heart and bowed low. And When she re- 
plied for herself, she caught up her skirts 
and dropped a little courtesy. The child- 
ren were all so delighted that they sat right 
down on the floor, took off their hats and 
bonnets, and demanded stories of the long- 
ago days Granny loved so well. She told 
them all about that fancy-dress ball and 
others that followed. She told them of how 
she and grandfather had gone to house- 
keeping all by themselves with not much 
money and of what good times they’d had. 

She told them of old war days and peace 
days. 

They were quite surprised to come out of 
story land and find the old attic room quite 
36 


JINGLE, BELLS 

dark with some of the first stars of the 
winter twilight looking down at them 
through the windows. Roger ran to get 
wood for the fire which was dying down. 
And just then, Grandma Beach and Aunt 
Eunice came in. Behind them was Celia 
to light the tall old candles Granny loved. 
In the firelight and candle-light, she served 
tea. Only the tea was cocoa. It was 
served in wonderful lavender and white 
china which Granny kept upstairs in her 
own cupboard. And the little cakes and 
caraway cookies that went with the cocoa 
were made from recipes in Granny’s little 
old yellowed cook-book she’d used when 
she married the tall big boy with handsome 
dark eyes and went to housekeeping in the 
little four-roomed house. 

By and by, they all went down stairs, 
still in their fancy-dress, to light the big 
37 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


Christmas Tree again. Susy was called to 
the telephone. When she came back she 
was greatly excited. 

“It’s mother,” she said. “And she wants 
you all to come to my house to-morrow. I 
can bring you back to-morrow night,” she 
says. “Oh Mrs. Beach,” she added. 
“Mother said to ask you first if they could 
go, and I forgot all about it. But you 
will say yes, won’t you please?” 

“If it’s a good day,” said Grandma Beach, 
smiling at Susy’s red face. “I’m sure they 
would greatly enjoy it. I’ll speak to your 
mother myself, Susy.” 

The rest of the evening was given up to 
plans for the next day. 

Susy lived up on one of the hills not far 
from The Willows. Marjory had been 
there once, and she had much to tell about 
that day — the day she had discovered Susy 
38 


JINGLE, BELLS 


and Molly. It was decided that two should 
ride in the red cutter and two should walk 
on snowshoes, changing about half way. 

Somewhere in the middle of the night, 
or so it seemed to Marjory and Lissy, Susy’s 
voice said, “It must be almost time to 
start.” 

And although it was still dark, it was 
morning. And because they wanted a long 
day, they all got up and ate breakfast by 
lamplight. 

Just as Wesley drove Molly up to the 
door, the sun came up, bringing a wonder- 
ful winter day with him. 

Roger and Marjory climbed into the 
cutter. Roger drove. Lissy and Susy 
strapped on their snowshoes. It wasn’t very 
cold. And the roadside was crisp and 
crusty, so that snowshoeing was fun. But 
of course, the two on snowshoes couldn’t 
39 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


quite keep up to Molly, who scampered 
along, her bells jingling merrily. 

Where the road that went up the hill to 
Susy’s house left the main road, Lissy and 
Susy found the others waiting for them. 
Molly was pawing the snow impatiently 
with one pretty little forefoot. Marjory 
was crying “Whoa!” And Roger was 
holding fast to the reins. 

“We want to snowshoe the rest of the 
way,” said Marjory. 

So Roger and Marjory scrambled out of 
the cutter and Lissy and Susy scrambled in. 
Even while Roger and Marjory tugged at 
the straps of their snowshoes, the red cutter 
disappeared around a bend in the road. 

“Go across lots,” was the last they heard, 
Susy waving her hand toward a place where 
some lowered bars showed the way into the 
fields. 

“And follow the snowshoe tracks.” 

40 


CHAPTER III 


SUSY’S FAMILY 

64 AY, Mar,” said Roger, as he helped 
Marjory with a stiff strap. “Do 
you know where that road goes 

to?” 

He pointed to the road which wound 
past the big hotel. 

“I’ve been thinking of it,” said Marjory. 
She looked wistfully along the snowy road 
under the great green pines. A short dis- 
tance above the hotel, another little-used 
road led from it to Good Times Camp. 

“There’s no reason why we shouldn’t go,” 
said Roger. “It’s safe enough. It’s just 
that your Grandma Beach has taken it into 
her head she doesn’t want us to.” 

“That road is safe enough,” said Marjory. 
41 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“But when the road up the mountain isn’t 
traveled, that’s bad. Wesley said so.” 

“There’s fine crust,” said Roger. “We 
could go to the Camp and look things over 
and get back to Susy’s before dinner.” 

“But it wouldn’t be right,” said Marjory 
slowly. 

“What harm will it do?” asked Roger. 

Marjory shook her head. 

“I don’t quite see why we can’t go all 
right, Roddy,” she said. “But Daddy said 
not to unless Grandma Beach was willing. 
So we can’t.” 

“Grandma Beach is never willing,” said 
Roger obstinately. 

“Oh yes, she is, now,” said Marjory. 
“She isn’t like she used to be. Do come 
on, Roddy. We must hurry. The girls 
will be at Susy’s long before we are.” 

“Who cares about Susy’s?” said Roger. 

42 


SUSY’S FAMILY 


“It’s no fun going there. Good Times 
Camp is lots better.” 

“I want to go dreadfully, Roddy,” said 
Marjory. “But we can’t. So that’s all 
there is to it.” 

“You mean you can’t,” said Roger. “I’m 
old enough to decide such a thing for 
myself. And I’m going.” 

Without once looking back, Roger set off 
swiftly, his snowshoes squeaking defiantly 
back at Marjory. 

“Please don’t go, Roger,” called Marjory. 
“Something might happen to you, all 
alone.” 

The minute Marjory said that she knew 
it was the very worst thing she could have 
said. Roger was sensitive about his eyes. 
He never wanted any one to say anything 
about them. Now, his back stiffened and 
he went faster than ever. 


43 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“Oh dear,” said Marjory. “He looks 
just as he used to when I first knew him.” 

She went slowly across the road, through 
the gap in the fence, and began to follow 
the long line of snowshoes tracks across the 
shining white fields. Every step or two, 
she stopped and looked back for Roger. 

There was no Roger in sight now any- 
where. 

“I just can’t let him go off like that,” she 
thought. “Daddy says he must never go 
out alone — something might happen to him. 
And this snow is so blinding — it must hurt 
his eyes even with dark glasses on. Oh 
dear, what shall I do? He hasn’t had 
such a spell in ever and ever so long.” 

Like some queer, broad-footed little bird, 
Marjory stood all alone in the big field. 
A saucy little chickadee came to look at 
her for a minute or two. Then he hurried 
44 


SUSY'S FAMILY 


away to tell some of his chums about her. 

She was thinking of the strange life Roger 
had had — handed about from one relative 
to another. 

And the trouble with his eyes, too. “It 
was a wonder he did as well as he did,” 
Daddy said. “They must be patient with 
him.” 

Marjory took a few steps back — that 
didn’t seem right. Then she took a few 
steps forward — that didn’t seem right either. 
She stood still again. The saucy chickadee 
was back again, with three others. They 
chattered among themselves. 

Marjory went forward — slower, slower, 
slower until she stopped short. 

“I just can’t go on and leave him anyway 
— so there,” she said aloud so suddenly that 
all the startled chickadees flew away. 

She turned around now and went swiftly 
45 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


back to the road. She went just as swiftly 
along the road past the Hotel, stepping in 
Roger’s tracks. By and by, just below 
where the mountain-road turned off, she 
saw where the tracks had turned around 
and gone back a little way, then gone for- 
ward again. Soon, she came to another 
place where they’d done the very same thing. 
And from this place, she saw Roger com- 
ing straight toward her. His head was up, 
his scowl was gone. As soon as he saw 
her he waved a mittened hand. 

Marjory stood still and waved back. 

“I’m not going,” said Roger as he came 
up. “The mountain road doesn’t look bad 
— but I’m not going.” 

Marjory wanted to say something, but 
she didn’t know just what. So she kept 
quiet. After they had passed the Hotel, 
crossed the road, and were following the 
46 


SUSY’S FAMILY 


snowshoe tracks across the fields, Roger 
spoke again. 

“Were you coming after me, Mar?” he 
asked soberly. 

“I had to, Roddy,” said Marjory slowly. 

When they were almost across the field, 
Roger said, “I say, Mar, you’re a brick!” 

“You’re brick-i-er, I guess,” said Mar- 
jory. 

Then they both laughed. 

“There’s Susy coming to look for us, 
now,” cried Marjory next minute, as Susy’s 
head in its red cap suddenly appeared over 
the brow of the next hill. 

“And there’s Lissy with her,” said Roger, 
as a blue cap came alongside the red one. 
“But what is that on the back of Susy’s 
snowshoes?” 

“It must be little Phil,” said Marjory. 
The girls were coming down the hill, now, 
47 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 

shouting and waving their hands. “Look — 
he’s standing right on the back of Susy’s 
snowshoes and taking a step whenever she 
does.” 

“Who are all the rest of them?” asked 
Roger, as two more figures came into view. 

“The tall one is Jeanne — Susy’s big sister, 
I suppose,” said Marjory. “But I don’t 
know who the one is with the baby. Hurry, 
Roddy, I can’t wait to know them all.” 

“Gee, Mar,” said Roger with a wry face. 
“I’ll never get over hating to meet strange 
people I guess.” 

“They’re not strange,” cried Marjory. 
“They’re Susy’s. Only, I didn’t know there 
was another sister.” 

Marjory hurried Roger along up the hill 
while the little procession came down. 

“Where have you been?” came Susy’s ex- 
cited voice above the others as they came 
48 


SUSY'S FAMILY 

nearer. The next minute, Roger and Mar- 
jory were quite surrounded by Susy’s family, 
all talking at once. 

When things quieted down a little, Roger 
spoke out. 

“It’s my fault we’re so late getting here,” 
he said. “I wanted to go to Good Times 
Camp, and I did go a little way. But — I 
came back. It wasn’t Mar’s fault.” 

“There’s no harm done, my dear,” said 
the girl who was carrying the baby. 
“We’ve all had a nice little morning walk — 
that’s all.” 

She had a pretty, dark, little face, with 
dark dancing eyes, and hair that wanted to 
break out in curls everywhere. Her voice 
was pretty and quick and full of life. It 
sounded the least-bit-foreign, someway. 
Every movement she made was quick and 
full of life, too. 


49 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 

“But Susy,” said Marjory gazing from 
one to another of Susy’s jolly, black-eyed 
family, “I didn’t know you had two older 
sisters — you ‘never told me.” 

“Two sisters?” Laughed Susy. “She isn’t 
my sister — she’s my mother.” 

Every one laughed, Susy’s little mother 
like the youngest of them all unless it was 
the baby, who cooed delightedly. Then she 
said, “Jeanne is taller than I am, now, and 
Susy will be — give her a year or two more. 
I tell them they have no respect for their 
little mother.” 

“Isn’t she dear?” whispered Lissy to 
Marjory as they fell a little behind the 
others on the way to the house. “I just 
love her already.” 

“I must have seen her, I suppose,” said 
Marjory, “that day last summer. But I 
didn’t notice her — and anyway she was in 
50 


SUSY’S FAMILY 

the car. I didn’t see anything but Molly 
that day,” she added, as they followed the 
others into the living-room of Susy’s home. 

“Oh Margie, doesn’t it make you think 
of the Penny Bank?” cried Lissy, drawing a 
deep breath. 

“It does,” said Marjory, “but it isn’t 
the room exactly.” 

“And the furniture isn’t a bit the same, 
or the view from the windows, or anything,” 
said Lissy. “Maybe it’s the children — 
please, Mrs. Morris, may I take the baby?” 

“It’s partly the children, maybe,” said 
Marjory. “But — there’s something about 
the feel of things, Lissy. It’s just as if 
the house was brimful of the good times 
that everyone has had and is going to have — 
oh, I can’t say it, but you know, Lissy.” 

Lissy nodded. And Susy’s mother cried 
delightedly. 


51 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“Ah, but that’s just the way I want it to 
be, little 'Margie. I want this little home 
just as full of happiness as my own used 
to be — what good times we used to have, 
Pierre, Marie, and I,” she added with a 
sigh. 

“Uncle Pierre is now in the French army 
fighting for France,” said Jeanne proudly. 

“Roddy’s cousin is in the war, too,” said 
Marjory. 

“Vive la France!” said little Philip, 
standing stiff and straight, as much like a 
soldier as he could. 

“He says that whenever anyone says any- 
thing about the War,” explained Susy. 
“Mother is French, you know. She lived in 
France till she married father.” 

Susy’s mother left the room soon after, 
saying she was going to have an early dinner. 

52 


SUSY’S FAMILY 


Jeanne went, too, to help her. Susy was 
excused today, because she had guests. 

Lissy wouldn’t give up the baby to any- 
one. She held him and cuddled him and 
sang snatches of song to him. 

Marjory went about the room looking at 
things. 

“What a pretty picture,” she cried sud- 
denly. She had paused before a large 
photograph on a small stand. “Who are 
the dear little girls, Susy?” 

“Rosemary Dawson,” laughed Susy. 

“Which is Rosemary?” said Marjory, as 
they all clustered about the picture. 

“Why, they’re exactly alike,” cried Lissy. 
“Or — does this one look a tiny bit soberer 
than the other?” 

Susy laughed again. “I’ll tell you,” she 
said. “They’re little twin girls we met in 
California last summer. They sent us this 

53 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 

picture for Christmas. They were staying 
near my uncle’s bungalow in a lovely big 
bungalow which belonged to their Aunt 
Rose.” 

“But you haven’t told who they are,” said 
Marjory. 

“Rose and Mary Dawson,” said Susy. 
“But honestly, I can’t tell which is which in 
the picture, myself. This is Rose, I think, 
and this is Mary. Now, I’ll turn the 
picture over and see if I’m right — their 
names are written on the back where they 
belong . No, I’m not right at all. This is 
Rose and this is Mary. Wherever they go, 
no one can tell them apart.” 

“What fun!” cried Marjory. “Oh Lis- 
sy,” how I do wish we were twins and 
looked as much alike as that.” 

“Better wish we both looked like you 
54 


SUSY’S FAMILY 

then, Margie,” said Lissy. “But wouldn’t 
I like to see them?” 

“Why maybe you will sometime,” said 
Susy. “Their Aunt Rose almost promised 
she’d let them come up here to visit me. 
She lives in Boston. And they’ve an Aunt 
Mary Craig in New York.” 

“Oh, I know who she is,” cried Marjory. 
“Her picture is in the Sunday supplements. 
She’s on more committees even than Betty 
Blake’s mother. She has just loads and 
loads of money — and she does wonderful 
things with it.” 

“Well,” said Susy, “part of the time 
Rosemary Dawson lives with her, and part 
of the time with her Aunt Rose. But the 
home she likes best is ’way. out in the 
country near a little town called Sugar 
River.” 

“What makes you call them Rosemary 
Dawson, Susy?” asked Marjory. 

55 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“When they speak of themselves together, 
they always do,” said Susy. “So every one 
else d’oes, too, in a little while. It’s so 
funny to hear them. Rose will say, ‘Well, 
is Rosemary Dawson going?’ and Mary 
will answer, ‘I think so.’ Then Rose will 
say, ‘What is she going to wear?’ And Mary 
will answer, ‘Her pink dress.’ ” 

“But what makes them?” cried Marjory. 

“They told us all about how it began,” 
said Susy. “It seems one year they went to 
school, taking turns, first Rose, then Mary. 
They looked just alike, you see, and dressed 
just alike, and no one in the school knew 
there were two of them. And the name 
they gave for both of them was ‘Rosemary 
Dawson.’ ” 

“I don’t see how they could ever do it,” 
said Lissy. 

“Well, they did,” said Susy. “Their 
56 


SUSY’S FAMILY 


Aunt Rose told mother all about it, too.” 

“I do hope we can know them,” said 
Marjory. 

“I could tell them apart,” said Roger un- 
expectedly. He held the picture in his 
hand. “I can always tell Marjory from 
Lissy, if one comes into the room, even if I 
can’t see them, or they don’t speak, can’t I, 
Mar?” 

“Every single time,” said Marjory, “even 
if we try to fool you. Aren’t they the dear- 
est things?” she added, looking at the pic- 
ture in Roger’s hands. “They must have 
very interesting times.” 

“They do,” said Susy. 

It almost seemed that the Rosemary 
Twins were going to speak out, themselves, 
as they stood there, hand in hand, free hands 
held out in greeting. 

“Wouldn’t it be lovely, Margie, if our 

57 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Martie Twins could know them?” said 
Lissy. “The Marties don’t look a bit 
alike.” 

Then, of course, Susy had to be told all 
about the Martie Twins, Betty, Joe, and 
Fritz. 

Right in the midst of one of the stories of 
Fritz, a man’s voice spoke. Such a big 
kindly voice it was that all the children 
whirled around to see where it came from. 

“Why father,” cried Susy, “I didn’t hear 
you come in.” 

Already little Philip was climbing up in- 
to his father’s arms, and the baby was wail- 
ing to get there too. 

“I’ve been listening to some of your 
stories, kiddies,” he said, taking both child- 
ren up and sitting down with them in a big 
chair. 

“This is little Marjory Brook, I know, 

58 


SUSY’S FAMILY 


and I suppose the others are Lissy and 
Roger that Susy’s been so anxious to see. 
Well, I started to tell you that you came 
near having a dog for a Christmas present, 
Sue.” 

“A dog?” cried Susy. “Well, why did- 
n’t we then?” 

“He refused to be had,” said Mr. Morris. 
“He came up to me on the street in Ridge- 
wood the other day and offered his paw in 
the friendliest fashion. I went into the 
hotel to find out if anyone knew anything 
about him. Someone said he came from 
Clover Patch, a big farm over south of us. 
When I came back, he’d disappeared. He 
was just the sort of dog I’d like to own.” 

“It sounds like Fritz,” said Lissy. Her 
eyes were big and round. 

“And you know, I’m just sure I saw — ” 

“Oh Lissy,” cried Roger. “Don’t begin 
59 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


on that again, please. You know just as 
well as I do that Fritz is in New York.” 

“Well,” said Lissy doubtfully, “I suppose 
he is, but — ” 

Luckily Lissy didn’t have time for any 
more. For just then the door flew open, 
and Jeanne, bright-eyed and red-cheeked, 
said: 

“Dinner is all ready!” 


60 


CHAPTER IV 


VIVE LA FRANCE 

N EVER before had the children 
eaten such a dinner as this. To 
begin with, the room itself was 
most unusual to find in a country farmhouse 
in the middle of the winter. It had long 
French windows which, on the south side of 
the room, opened into a goodsized glass 
room, full of sunshine and blossoming 
plants. The plants and the soft green silk 
curtains at the windows gave a summery 
look to everything. The fire in the grate 
gave a summery warmth. There were real 
flowers in the center of the table. At each 
place was a tiny boutonniere. Jeanne’s 
clever fingers had made these of dainty 
61 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


colored silks. No two were exactly alike. 

“They’re not fragrant like the real 
flowers,” she said, “but they’ll always 
bloom.” 

Instead of the Christmas turkey there 
was a roasted pig. It tried to look as much 
like a French pig as one born and bred in 
America possibly could. And it surely 
tasted like a French pig, for Mrs. Morris 
had cooked it in true French style. There 
were other French dishes. The children 
weren’t just sure what they were, but they 
were all delicious. 

There was chocolate to drink. There 
were chocolate eclairs to eat. There were 
some wonderful flat thin cakes which Susy’s 
mother called “pleasures.” 

After dinner, Susy’s mother disappeared 
with little Philip and baby Lucille. 
Jeanne, Susy, and the others washed, wiped, 
62 


VIVE LA FRANCE 

and put away the flowered French china. 

“We’ve a little surprise for you,” said 
Susy as the last dish was set carefully in its 
place. “Will -you stay here, please, till it’s 
ready? Phil will tell you.” 

“Don’t we have the best times wherever 
we go?” said Lissy, as the door closed be- 
hind Susy and Jeanne. 

All three sat down in one of the big 
pleasant kitchen windows to wait for Susy’s 
surprise. It wasn’t long before the door 
into the dining-room flew open and there 
stood little Phil. But such a funny little 
Phil. He wore queer awkward trousers 
that came down about midway between his 
knees and his feet, coarse white stockings, 
and no shoes. He wore a dull blue waist 
like a smock. On his head was a round red 
cap. And around his neck was a red scarf. 

“Monsieur Philippe,” he said gravely. 

63 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


Then he jabbered a few French words just 
below his breath. 

“He wants us to come in,” said Lissy, 
taking Philip’s hand. “But where on earth 
are your shoes, dear?” 

To their surprise, instead of answering, 
Monsieur Philippe suddenly stuck out his 
little red tongue and grasped it firmly be- 
tween his thumb and forefinger. 

“He’s afraid he’ll tell,” giggled Susy. 
“Mother told him once to hold his tongue, 
and he always does now.” 

Susy’s mother came forward smiling, 
greeting them in French. She had become 
the prettiest of little French matrons. The 
two girls had become delightful little 
French girls. They were introduced as 
Madamoiselle Jeanne and Madamoiselle 
Susanne. Even baby Lucille was now a 
French baby. 


64 



M 


“ ‘ He wants us to come in,’ said Lissy. 








VIVE LA FRANCE 

Really, for a few minutes, Lucille’s part 
in the conversation was all Marjory and 
Lissy and Roger could understand. For 
while the others all chattered away in 
French, she cooed and gurgled away in her 
baby-language which is much the same the 
world over. 

“Oh, I’m going to learn French just as 
soon as I get back home,” cried Marjory. 
“How do you ever do it, Susy?” 

“I learned it before I did English,” said 
Susy. 

“And is your real name Susanne?” asked 
Lissy. 

“It’s prettier than Susy, isn’t it?” said 
Susy. 

“Heaps prettier,” said Marjory. “I 
shall always call you that, when I don’t for- 
get.” 

All the pretty French keepsakes Susy’s 
65 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


mother had brought from her own home 
had been brought out to show the children. 
She showed them a worn and faded figure 
of one of the Three Wise Men. 

“It was once a part of the little stable in 
our church at home,” she said. “There 
were figures of Mary and Joseph and the 
little Christ in his cradle. And there were 
tiny oxen in their stall. And real straw. 
We children used to love to help freshen 
up the little stable each year just before 
Christmas.” 

Then there was a tiny figure of Jeanne 
d’Arc which she showed them reverently. 

“I have her name,” said Jeanne proudly. 
“You know the story of The Maid?” she 
said. 

“Doris told us something about her,” said 
Marjory, “but we’d love to hear it again.” 

As long as they live, Marjory and Lissy 
66 


VIVE LA FRANCE 

and Roger will remember the story of 
Jeanne d’Arc as Susy’s mother told it that 
winter afternoon before the fire. Every 
one of the listening children glowed with 
patriotism and longed for a chance to do 
something great and glorious too. 

“She will lead France again to victory,” 
said Susy’s mother, a wonderful light be- 
hind the tears in her dark eyes. She 
glanced from the tiny figure of The Maid 
to the Tri-color which, with the Union 
Jack and The Star Spangled Banner, hung 
over the mantel. 

“Vive la France !” shouted Monsieur 
Philippe. He came stiffly to salute. 

Every one saluted. And as if at a signal, 
Susy’s mother, Jeanne, Susy, and little Phil- 
ippe sang “The Marseillaise,” the others 
joining in as well as they could. Then they 
sang “God Save the King!” And then 
67 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“The Star Spangled Banner,” till the 
little room fairly rang. 

“But we must have our Christmas,” cried 
Susy’s mother, when the last note died away, 
except for some of Monsieur Philippe’s, 
which had come out behind the others. “I 
wanted to have you over night so that we 
might have a glow-worm procession.” 

“A glow-worm procession?” cried Mar- 
jory. 

“The night before Christmas,” went on 
Susy’s mother, “in our little town, we child- 
ren were allowed to sit up until time for the 
late services in the church. It was a great 
occasion. We played our noisiest games 
to keep awake. Then when it was time, 
we used to go with father and mother to 
church. All the neighbors turned out too. 
Each one carried a lantern. It was funny 
enough to see the lanterns bobbing about 
68 


VIVE LA FRANCE 


the dark streets. They looked like glow- 
worms. When church was over, we came 
back to a hot supper. In the middle of the 
night — think of it. But it happened only 
once a year, remember. We were 90 ex- 
cited — Pierre, Marie, and I — we used to 
beg to stay up till the first red ray of 
morning brought the little Christ Child 
with gifts for us. But no indeed — at the 
most interesting minute, we were sent off 
to bed.” 

“Did you really believe the Christ Child 
sent the gifts?” asked Lissy. 

“At first,” smiled Lissy’s mother. “But 
after, when we knew better, we still liked 
to think he did. And after all, it was love 
that sent them, wasn’t it?” 

“Of course,” said Lissy thoughtfully. 

“Didn’t you have a tree?” asked Marjory. 

“Not often in our little home town,” said 
69 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Susy’s mother. “Of course, in Paris, there 
are trees and wonderful celebrations, even 
your own Santa Claus. There were, I 
mean,” she added sadly. “The War has 
changed everything.” 

“Vive la France ” cried Monsieur Phil- 
ippe. 

“But our Santa Claus really went over 
there this year, didn’t he?” said Lissy, 
“aboard the Christmas Ship? That will 
help a little.” 

“Didn’t you hang up your stockings?” 
asked Roger. 

Susy’s mother shook her head. 

“Look about all of you and see if you 
can’t find what we did do,” she said. 
“Careful, now, Philip.” 

So while the others watched and laughed 
and Monsieur Philippe grasped his little 
tell-tale of a tongue, Lissy and Marjory and 
70 


VIVE LA FRANCE 

Roger hunted about the room to find some- 
thing to take the place of Christmas stock- 
ings. 

“Shoes !” cried Roger at last. 

And there, in a half-circle under the 
mantel, was a row of quaint little shoes. 
Four pairs were leather slippers with straps. 
Three were clumsy wooden affairs. 

^‘Count them, count them,” cried Susy 
dancing about with Philip. 

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven 
pairs,” counted the three eager little guests. 

“There’s a pair apiece,” cried Susy. 
“Phil couldn’t wear the ones that go with 
his costume because they had to be bor- 
rowed for this. And we were so afraid 
he’d tell.” 

“I didn’t, I didn’t,” cried Philip. “I 
held my tongue.” 

The three little guests were down on the 
71 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


floor examining the Christmas shoes. In 
one of each pair was a slip of paper with a 
name written on it — Lissy, Roger, Mar- 
jory, Jeanne, Susy, Philip, Lucille. And 
each shoe held its little gifts. The little 
guests had never before had any such gifts — 
pretty hand-made boxes filled with bon- 
bons such as only Susy’s mother could make, 
candied fruit in tiny baskets, bits of jewelry, 
and little French toys that she had played 
with when she was a child. 

“Now bring the chestnuts,” cried Susy’s 
mother. 

While they all roasted and ate chestnuts, 
Susy’s mother sat down on the floor with 
them and told them stories of her own little 
girlhood. She had belonged to a fine 
French family they found. They did so 
want to ask her how she happened to meet 
and marry an American. But at last she 
72 


VIVE LA FRANCE 

told them how she had come to the United 
States to visit some friends, had fallen in 
love with the big jolly farmer, had gone 
back home, and he had come after her. 

When that story was over, Susy and 
Jeanne pulled down all the dark green 
shades. And they had a little procession, 
each carrying a little lighted taper. Round 
and round the room they went, all singing, 
as best they could, a French Christmas carol. 
Every one knew the music, so it didn’t 
matter that some sang French and some 
English words. 

“I’d like to keep you, indeed I would,” 
said Susy’s mother. “But I promised that 
stately grandmother of yours I’d send you 
home early. So here you go.” She threw 
up both hands in one of her pretty quick 
French gestures. 

“I must run and change back from 
73 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Madamoiselle Susanne to plain Susy,” cried 
Susy. “Wouldn’t the Grandmas all stare if 
a little French girl should bring you home?” 

“Please don’t change,” begged Marjory. 
“I want the Grandmas to see Madamoiselle 
Susanne. Granny’d just love her.” 

“Oh no, you must change,” said Susy’s 
mother. “For you are to stay all night 
and to-morrow, Susanne — you and Molly.” 

“Oh goody, goody,” cried Susy scamper- 
ing away to become plain Susy as soon as 
possible. 

It was a jolly little cutterful that went 
spinning down the hill a half-hour or so 
later. The west was still a warm golden 
color. The snow crisped and glowed under 
Molly’s flying feet. 

“Of course I don’t know,” said Lissy 
patting her bright blue and orange bouton- 
niere, “but I don’t believe any one any- 
74 


VIVE LA FRANCE 

where in the whole world is having a love- 
lier Christmas than we are.” 

“I know it,” said Marjory snuggling 
down under the robe. “If only the Ben 
Baker bunch could have been here too!” 


75 


CHAPTER V 


A WINTER PICNIC 

T HERE was scarcely time to tell 
the Grandmas all about the 
French Christmas up in the farm- 
house on the hill, before, right after supper, 
the children were sent to bed. 

“We never go so early at home,” Marjory 
said. 

“Never mind,” said Lissy, “the sooner we 
go to sleep, the sooner it will be morning.” 

Next morning, at breakfast, Grandma 
Beach said quietly, “Would you children 
like to go to Good Times Camp to-day?” 
“Good Times Camp?” cried Marjory. 
“Could we?” cried Lissy. 

76 


A WINTER PICNIC 

“I thought you said we couldn’t,” cried 
Roger. 

Susy said nothing. But her eyes were 
bigger and blacker than ever. 

“I said, ‘Good Times Camp? Why my 
dear, in the middle of the winter?’ ” said 
Grandma Beach. “I didn’t say you 
couldn’t go.” 

“Daddy didn’t know whether you’d 
think we’d better or not,” said Marjory. 
“And we were not to tease about it.” 

“I went a little way yesterday, Grandma 
Beach,” said Roger. “But I came back.” 

“Wesley has been up several times, so 
the roads are open and good,” said Grand- 
ma. “And he’s had a fire there every day 
for more than a week, so it’s quite warm and 
comfortable, he says. So, if you’d really 
like to,” she paused. And it did seem that 
77 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


her fine old eyes wanted to twinkle like 
Granny’s. 

“Me, too?” said Susy finding her tongue. 

“You are to drive Molly,” said Grandma 
Beach. “I told your Mother all about it. 
And she was willing. Wesley has made a 
shelter for Molly, and with plenty of 
blankets he says she will be all right. Any- 
way, you can stay only while it’s bright and 
sunny, you know.” 

All the way up to the Camp, through the 
wonderful white woods, where the brook 
could be heard at times whispering in its 
winter sleep, the children talked about how 
good it was of Grandma Beach to let them 
come. 

“I’m so glad I didn’t go yesterday,” said 
Roger. 

Marjory smiled at him. 

“I did so want to see it,” she said. 

78 


A WINTER PICNIC 

“I didn’t see how we could wait till next 
summer,” said Lissy. “And aren’t the woods 
just lovely in winter?” 

Wesley had gone on ahead to make sure 
the road was all right for Molly and her 
red cutter. He carried extra blankets, 
wraps, snowshoes, two big lunch-baskets, 
and thermos bottles of hot milk and cocoa. 

“Your Grandma has changed wonder- 
fully,” said Susy. “Mother says she isn’t 
like the same person since she’s found her 
granddaughters.” 

“Aren’t you glad you came last summer, 
Margie?” asked Lissy. 

“Aren’t you glad yob did?” said Mar- 
jory. 

“Aren’t you glad they did, Roger?” 
laughed Susy. 

“And aren’t you glad they did, Susy?” 
added Roger. 


79 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Every one laughed. Molly stopped 
short. She looked her happy load over. 
Then she neighed in her funny little way, 
kicked up her heels, and ran every step of 
the way up the next hill. 

So, laughing and chattering and jingle- 
jangling, the cutterful of little folks climbed 
the long white trail, where the tree-shadows 
lay soft and blue across the snow, and came, 
at last, in sight of Good Times Camp. It 
did look pretty and homey among its ever- 
greens and white birches. Smoke poured 
out of its chimney. There were Christmas 
wreaths in the windows. 

A great wreath of ground-pine hung over 
the front door. 

“It makes it seem just like coming home,” 
cried Marjory, “to see the smoke and the 
Chrismas greens. But who do you suppose 
thought of them — Wesley or the Grand- 
mas?” 


80 


A WINTER PICNIC 

Wesley wasn’t anywhere in sight, nor the 
big sleigh either. But the little folks 
climbed out, put Molly in the little lean-to, 
which Wesley had made, and covered her 
warmly. Then together they all rushed up 
the steps across the porch, and burst through 
the door into the little living-room. 

“Wesley must have gone for wood, or 
something,” said Roger, when the room 
proved to be quite empty save for a pile of 
robes, snowshoes, and lunch-basket, and the 
roar and crackle of a great fire in the fire- 
place. 

“How lovely to have — ” began Lissy, 
when “Boof ! Boof! Boof!” cried a familiar 
voice right in the middle of her sentence. 
And suddenly, from somewhere, right into 
the middle of the room, sprang Fritz. 

On his collar was a perky red ribbon bow. 
He capered about like a puppy, upsetting 
81 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


snowshoes, lunch-baskets, everything that 
came in his way. Then, while Roger care- 
fully righted the baskets, he began going 
the rounds offering his paw in his usual 
friendly fashion. 

“Fritz!” cried three little campers, as if 
they had but one voice and that voice could 
say but one word, and that one word had a 
big exclamation point after it. And 
“Fritz?” came Susy’s voice trailing after, 
with a question-mark. She’d never seen 
Fritz before, although she’d heard so much 
about him, she was sure it must be the 
wonderful dog himself. 

“I did see him, I told you I did,” cried 
Lissy, finding her breath first. 

“Did, did you?” said a teasing voice 
somewhere, that could belong only to Joe. 

Right after it rippled a little low laugh 
that could belong only to Betty. 

82 


A WINTER PICNIC 

Then came an unmistakeable giggle. 
Only Nancy Spindle giggled in that wholly 
delightful fashion. 

And Martha’s voice, half muffled, called 
“Do hurry and find us!” While Martin’s 
said, “Sh-sh!” anxiously. 

Fritz routed out Joe hidden behind the 
bunks. Roger went straight to Betty just 
outside the living-room door in the kitchen. 
Lissy and Marjory found Martha and Mar- 
tin under a great pile of robes and pillows 
in one corner of the room. Nancy forgot 
to stay in hiding, wherever she’d been, and 
came out to help the others search. And 
the little camp just brimmed over with boys 
and girls and a dog who took up as much 
room and made as much noise as three dogs. 
At the kitchen-door looking on and enjoy- 
ing the fun was Wesley. 

“We thought it all up two weeks ago,” 
83 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


said Joe. “Or Betty began it, of course. 
How we’d come up here to the Camp first 
and surprise you. We talked it over with 
father and mother and they helped and 
planned too. Then we called up the 
Grandmas and they agreed to help get 
ready and keep it a great secret. Then, at 
the very last minute, so there wouldn’t be 
time for you to ask many questions, father 
’phoned you. He said we couldn’t come 
with you as we’d planned. Well, we 
couldn’t and carry out our new plans. 
See? And, of course, later, he told your 
father, all about it, Mar.” 

“And we were there in the station that 
day,” said Betty, “hiding from you behind 
the pillars. We were so afraid you’d see 
us. Joe stayed outside most of the time 
with Fritz. And we had to ride all the 
way to Ridgewood in a day-coach because 
84 


A WINTER PICNIC 


there was only one chair-car coming 
through to Ridgewood. And you were in 
that.” 

“Then I did see Fritz,” cried Lissy. 

“Did you, Lissy?” asked Martin. 
“Where?” 

“In the looking-glass of the car,” said 
Lissy. 

“We were afraid you would,” said 
Martin in his slow precise way. “You see 
Joe and I were trying to get him on the 
baggage car. Maybe he saw you and 
wanted to speak to you. Anyhow, he 
dragged Joe and me, both, straight into the 
aisle of your coach. And it took us some 
time to get him out.” 

“I had just a glimpse of him,” laughed 
Lissy. “The glass was just in front of me, 
you see. Then I heard him bark in the 
station in Ridgewood, didn’t I?” 

85 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“You’d been stone-deaf if you hadn’t,” 
said Joe. “We coaxed the train-man to let 
us off on the other side away from the 
station so you wouldn’t see us. Then Fritz 
raised his voice and wailed.” 

“But where have you been all the time?” 
cried Marjory still lost in wonder at the 
way Ben Baker’s bunch had carried out 
such a delightful plan. “Why haven’t we 
seen you somewhere?” 

“Uncle Ben met us in Ridgewood,” ex- 
plained Nancy Spindle. “And we stayed 
at the hotel there over Sunday. Then, 
yesterday, we came up here and helped get 
things ready. Wesley was here, too.” 

“And we were up at Susy’s and never 
knew,” cried Lissy. 

“Why we’ve never introduced Susy,” said 
Marjory. 


86 


A WINTER PICNIC 


She and Lissy both put an arm around 
Susy and brought her forward. 

“This is Susy Morris,” said Marjory. 

“Yesterday, she was Mademoiselle Su- 
sanne,” said Roger. 

Every one smiled at Susy. 

“Black-eyed Susan, I should call her,” 
said Joe. 

“Well, I’m glad we’re all here together 
at last,” said Nancy. “It’s worth all the 
planning and working and waiting. And 
now, we’re going to have the best dinner. 
Just look at all the lunch-baskets.” 

“Do let’s eat it early and have lots of after- 
noon,” suggested Martha. 


87 


CHAPTER VI 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 

W ESLEY couldn’t stay. He left 
the fire and everything else in 
Joe’s care, and drove the big 
empty sleigh back down the hill. If Uncle 
Ben Baker could get through some impor- 
tant business in Ridgewood he was coming 
up in the afternoon, and they were all 
to have a snowshoe hike through the woods 
to the hotel. If he wasn’t there by three o’ 
clock they were to start out by themselves, 
so as to reach the hotel before dark. Mar- 
jory, Lissy, Susy, and Roger were to have 
their supper at the hotel with Ben Baker’s 
bunch of little folks. 

All these delightful plans came out, one 
88 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


by one, while the little folks ate their din- 
ner. Every one agreed that, while they had 
had many wonderful meals together, there 
had never been one quite like this eaten 
in the very heart of the winter woods. 

“What’s the very nicest thing we can do 
this afternoon?” said Betty, when they had 
all eaten all they could. “The very Christ- 
masiest?” 

Nancy and Lissy were already bustling 
about, packing the lunch-baskets. 

“I think,” said Marjory, “it would be 
lovely to go out in the woods, cut a Christ- 
mas Tree, bring it in, and set it up here 
by our own fireplace.” 

This plan pleased every one. So out they 
all trooped to find just the right tree for the 
little room. It was very small, of course, 
but beautifully shaped. It had some little 
cones of its own, and an empty bird’s nest 
89 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


high in its branches. When it was hung 
with red apples and stems of raisins left 
over from dinner, it was as pretty as any 
little tree could ever wish to be. 

But getting a Christmas Tree, dragging 
it home, setting it up, and trimming it, all 
together take time. And when it was fin- 
ished and they were all resting around the 
fire, taking great breaths of spicy balsam 
fragrance, Nancy noticed that already it 
was growing dark. 

“It’s all clouded over,” said Joe from the 
window. “And it snows just a little.” 

“Oh goodie!” cried Marjory, “I do so 
want a real big snow-storm while we’re 
here.” 

“Hear the wind,” said Betty. “Isn’t it 
lovely through the pines ’way up here?” 

“We’ll have to wait till three, I guess,” 
said Joe anxiously, coming from the win- 
90 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


dow. “Because Uncle Ben is coming up the 
short way, if he comes, and we’re going 
down the long way, and we’d miss him, 
and he’d be worried.” 

“Of course we’ll wait,” said Lissy hap- 
pily. “I’d like to stay here all night. 
Betty, tell us a story.” 

“I’ll tell you a Belgian fairy-story mother 
tells me,” said Betty. “It belongs to the 
woods and a snow-storm.” 

Several times, in the midst of Betty’s 
fairy-story, Joe glanced anxiously toward 
the window. The snowflakes were flying 
airily now. The wind blew in gales. At 
five minutes of three, when Betty’s story 
came to a delightful close, he said, 

“Let’s get all ready, now, to save time. 
Then, if Uncle Ben comes, we can start 
right out.” 

So on went sweaters, coats, caps, scarfs, 
91 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


leggings, and mittens. It might almost 
have been an expedition starting for the 
North Pole, Martin said. The fire was 
left just as Wesley had told them it should 
be. Then the whole bunch went out on the 
porch and began strapping on snowshoes. 

“Who’s going to ride?” cried Susy. 
“Molly’s got to get home, and she can’t 
snowshoe.” 

“You better drive her, Susan,” said Joe. 
“She knows your touch best. And Margie 
must ride, because she hasn’t walked much 
on snowshoes, yet, and Roger, because he 
mustn’t get tired.” 

“I’ll change off when any of you get 
tired,” said Marjory. 

Just about three the bunch left the camp. 
Lunch-baskets and robes had to be left be- 
hind. Wesley could come for them. 

Down the road they started, laughing and 
92 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


shouting. The white winter woods were 
so wonderful. It did seem that the snow- 
shoe hike was to be the very best part of a 
very happy day. There must be more than 
an hour of good daylight left, too, Joe 
thought. 

How it did snow. The snowflakes were 
large and soft and filled the air with a white 
fleece. It was beautiful, although it did 
heap up the track and was hard to look 
through, especially when the wind blew. 
But no one minded. Martha lost the track 
once or twice and had to be brought back 
by Martin. 

“I’ll watch Molly every minute,” said 
Susy, “else she’ll take the wrong turn and 
carry us up home instead of to The Pines.” 

“That would be a mistake, Susan,” said 
Joe. “We’ll all look out for that turn.” 

Just what became of that turn that snowy 
93 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


winter afternoon, no one ever quite knew. 
Probably the snow hid the familiar land- 
marks, as it has a way of doing, so that there 
was nothing to guide the little folks. Prob- 
ably Susy tried too hard to show Molly 
just what to do. Anyhow, they didn’t find 
any turn — or if they did, they didn’t recog- 
nize it. They just kept going and going and 
going, and getting nowhere nearer it, or so 
it seemed. After awhile, Joe, peering at 
his watch, called a halt to talk things over. 

“It’s getting to be a regular blizzard,” 
he said, as they all gathered about Molly 
and the little red cutter. Blasts of wind 
blew them against it and each other as they 
talked. The snow came thick and fast, 
now, folding them in a great soft white 
blanket. 

The cutter began to look like a small 
snowbank, itself, with three rosy faces peer- 
94 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


ing out of it. Molly shook herself im- 
patiently, and her bells jing-jangled in a 
muffled sort of way. 

“We’ll just have to go on as best we can,” 
said Joe. “Of course we can’t be far from 
The Pines. Now listen — every one. Betty 
and I will go ahead. Then Molly and her 
load. Then the Marties — don’t lose Mar- 
tha, Martin. And, Nancy, you come last 
so as to keep track of them all.” 

Nothing was said about where Fritz 
should go. During the conversation, he sat 
on Joe’s snowshoes and seemed to be listen- 
ing intently. And when they all started 
along, Nancy, rounding them up, like an 
anxious watch-dog, he decided to do as he 
pleased. Sometimes he scouted ahead. 
Sometimes he helped Nancy. Sometimes 
he was close to Molly. Sometimes he was 
nowhere to be seen. 


95 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Because they had to stop so often to call 
him, Joe, at last, took the lead from 
his pocket and fastened it to the dog’s 
collar. 

“Now, we’ll see, old fellow,” he said. 
“Wherever you take it into your head to go, 
I’ll just go along with you.” 

On and on they went, Fritz trotting 
quietly beside Joe and Betty. Molly’s bells 
jingled more and more feebly. Sometimes 
the cutter scraped along on one runner. On 
and on, stopping to free their snowshoes 
from snow, gasping for breath when the 
wind swept down upon them, still peering 
anxiously for signs of the turn, or even the 
big hotel, itself, among its tall pines. 

Then Martha stumbled, fell, and rolled 
over like a great snowball. It took Martin, 
Nancy, and Joe to get her right side up 
again, with snowshoes untangled. Then the 
96 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


cutter tip-tilted so dangerously that Joe had 
to spring to hold that up. 

“Keep Fritz, Bet. Don’t let go!” he 
cried, throwing the lead to Betty, who 
caught it and clutched it fast. 

With all the rest, the white twilight of 
the woods was beginning to be gray. The 
early winter night was coming. And still 
there was no village in sight anywhere. 

“We’re out of the road, I think,” said 
Joe. “Though there’s some kind of a track 
that Molly keeps in. But there aren’t many 
trees any more.” 

Just at this minute, Fritz set up a sudden 
barking. Like a flash, he dashed away 
from what they had tried to think was a 
track of some kind and set off furiously 
across the almost cleared space. Holding 
fast, as she felt she must, Betty found her- 
self dashing along back of him, much faster 
97 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 

than she had ever before traveled on snow- 
shoes. Up and down, up and down over 
uneven ground, over the top of a fence just 
visible in the drifts, over a strip of ice, 
perilously thin, on and on and on, flew that 
dog. 

Clutching the lead, dashing the snow 
from her face, on and on behind him, flew 
Betty. She couldn’t look to see what had 
become of the others. She couldn’t look to 
see where she was going. 

She could just hold on to that lead and 
watch, as well as she could, those treacher- 
ous snowshoes of hers. Then she forgot all 
about them, and just gave herself up to what 
seemed to be flying down a long, long hill, 
and across a broad free space of meadow 
toward what looked like a real light. Bet- 
ty’s eyes clung to that light, as it came and 
went in the snow, as fast as her hands clung 
98 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


to Fritz. Nearer and nearer, clearer and 
clearer, it came. Then, blurred and in- 
distinct, not so far away, she could see the 
friendly red roofs of a great barn, where 
cattle lowed faintly. Beyond these roofs, in 
a minute, showed another friendly red roof. 
And below this, was the light again, which 
was really a welcoming window. 

On they skimmed, over other fences, 
across what was probably a yard, up some 
steps, across a porch, banging with such 
force into a door that it flew wide open. 
Then, snowshoes clattering wildly, still 
clutching the lead with half frozen hands, 
Betty made her sudden entry into the 
middle of a warm, supper-scented kitchen. 

There was a pretty, pink-checked, little 
woman who bustled toward her. There 
were young wondering faces all about her. 

There was a dog barking wildly and a 
99 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


voice saying, “Well, well, Fritz, where did 
you come from?” Then for a few minutes, 
Betty didn’t see or hear anything more. 

The next she knew she was lying in a 
little heap on a lounge in one corner of the 
room. Some one was rubbing her hands. 
Joe was taking off her snowshoes. Nancy 
was trying to get off her coat. 

“She’s all right, now, aren’t you, my 
dear?” that same brisk busy little voice was 
saying. Betty smiled at the pink-cheeked 
little woman who exactly matched her voice, 
said “Yes” quite feebly, and was glad to 
lie still a little longer while the rest took 
off her wraps and Fritz licked her hand. 

“Are you all here?” she asked after a 
minute, sitting up and looking around. 

“Every one except Molly, and she’s in the 
barn,” said Joe. “All right now, Bet?” 

Then they all went on to tell her how, 
100 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


as best they could, with Molly, they had all 
followed hen Of course, they had come in 
a much more round-about fashion. But 
come they had. 

“You looked just like a great red bird 
skimming over the hills,” said Marjory, 
squeezing Betty to make sure she was there 
and quite all right. 

“And then you were just a speck of red 
through the snow,” said Martha. 

“And then you weren’t anywhere at all,” 
cried Lissy. “And how we did hurry to 
find you again.” 

“Why didn’t you let go, Bet?” asked Joe. 
His voice was still anxious. 

“You told me to hold on to Fritz,” said 
Betty. Then, suddenly she laughed mer- 
rily. “It seems funny, doesn’t it, but after 
that first minute I never once thought that 
I could let go.” 


101 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“Well, if you’re all right, I’m glad you 
didn’t,” said Joe. “Because as usual, Fritz 
has brought us somewhere.” 

“You couldn’t have come to a better 
place than Clover Patch, not if you’d tried 
for hours,” cried the pink-cheeked little 
woman. “Every one’s welcome here at all 
hours of day or night — especially young 
folks and dogs. Fritz knows that. Now, 
let’s see — you’re Joel Bernard, you say. 
The one that came on the lead is Betty 
somebody. This is Nancy Spindle. These 
are Martin and Martha Wren — not the 
Marties that got lost that time?” 

“Martin did,” said Martha. 

“This is little Marjory Brook,” went on 
the brisk little woman, “who belongs to my 
old friend, Margaret Beach down at The 
Willows. This is Lissy Penny, who’s her 
sister, if she hasn’t the same name. Your 
102 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


grandma’s told me all about you, you see. 
This is Roger Kent. And Susy Morris, of 
course, from ’way up the mountain road. 
Oh, I know you, Susy, and your little horse, 
too. Now, I’m Miss Araminta Clover — 
the Miss Clover who’s always adopting 
babies — ever heard of her? That girl over 
there, who looks about sixteen, but who’s 
really a married woman with two babies of 
her own, is my adopted daughter, Anne 
Clover Story. That tall slim girl is Effie 
Clover. That great boy, who’s just come 
in from helping Jake take care of the pony, 
is John Thomas Clover. The babies, of 
course, are Anne’s. Aren’t we a happy 
Clover Bunch? Fritz thinks so. He’s 
been coming to see us ever since he was a 
puppy. Ever since that nice yellow-haired 
boy, over there, was a baby. That’s David 
Cary Clover. Now, while Anne and Effie 
103 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


and I get you a good hot supper, you just 
toast yourselves around the fire in the living- 
room.” She threw open a door into another 
room bright with lamplight, which proved 
to be a great dining room. And beyond 
that was another, where a ruddy fire roared 
its welcome. 

“Couldn’t we get home, possibly, Miss 
Clover?” asked Joe, as they all trooped 
into this room. 

“I’m Aunt Minty, please,” said Miss Ar- 
aminta. “All the children everywhere 
around call me that. It’s too far to go in 
this storm. But we’ll just do a little tele- 
phoning. Then, everything will be as 
right as right.” 

Almost before any one could think, Aunt 
Minty was talking with Celia at The Wil- 
lows. She explained that every one was 
safe and would stay till morning at Clover 
104 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


Patch. The Grandmothers hadn’t thought 
of worrying, of course, because they sup- 
posed the children were at The Pines for 
supper. And Celia would explain every- 
thing to Susy’s people. Then Aunt Minty 
talked with a very anxious Uncle Ben at 
The Pines, who had been ’way up to the 
camp and back. 

“Of course, I can keep them all, even 
Fritz, if he’ll stay,” laughed Aunt Minty 
into the receiver. “Don’t you know, Ben 
Baker, that I’ve been adopting babies and 
building on rooms for them till my house 
is almost as big as that famous Bernard 
Home in New York? Come to-morrow, 
and see for yourself.” 

“Have you really?” cried Nancy Spindle, 
when Aunt Minty came chuckling from the 
telephone to the fireplace. 

“Ten years ago I took Effie and Johnny,” 
105 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


said Aunt Minty. “Then I took little Anne 
and David. Since then Fve had ever so 
many for awhile, finding real homes for 
them somewhere.” 

“That’s what I shall do when I’ve been 
made into a graduate nurse,” said Nancy. 
“I’ve just decided.” 

“Nancy’s been in the Bernard Home you 
just spoke of,” explained Betty. 

“Why, it’s your mother — bless her — that 
started that Home isn’t it?” cried Aunt 
Minty. “And this is the Joe that put the 
thought into her head? And you’re the 
blessed Betty that caused that wonderful 
Betty Blake Annex. Well, isn’t this the 
luckiest storm that ever stormed?” 

“It’s like a house party,” said Marjory. 

“It’s Fritz’s house party,” said Roger. 
“Didn’t he fairly drag Betty here? And 
106 


FRITZ PLANS A HOUSE PARTY 


didn’t all the rest of us just have to come, 
too?” 

In the midst of the shout that went up 
at the idea of Fritz’s having a house party 
of all his friends, the door into the dining 
room opened. ( 

“Supper’s all ready,” said little Anne. 


107 


CHAPTER VII 


THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 

“jr-fl ^HIS table looks just as if it had 
been expecting us, Aunt Minty,” 
JL- said Lissy, as she slipped into her 
place at the long dining room table. 

The Clover Bunch laughed and looked 
at Aunt Minty. She laughed, too. 

“It’s like this,” she said. “Before Fritz 
and Betty arrived here to-night, we were 
about the mournfulest Clover Bunch you 
ever saw. I had invited all my little adop- 
ted children from near and far to a big 
Christmas Tree party. All day long the 
telephone has rung to tell me that, owing to 
a storm, this one and that one and the other 
one couldn’t come. This storm, you see, 
108 


THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 

has been raging up in the mountains since 
morning. We’d just heard from the last 
one, when we heard Fritz barking. Now, 
you see, the supper and the tree and every- 
thing come in just as handy as can be.” 

“This will make Lissy’s and Roger’s and 
my fifth Christmas Tree!” laughed Mar- 
jory. “Isn’t it just lovely?” 

“Wait till you see a Clover Christmas 
Tree,” cried David Clover. He was the 
happiest looking boy, with red cheeks and 
blue eyes and yellow hair. He was a little 
younger than Roger, and a little older than 
the Marties. 

“At a Clover Christmas Tree,” said Effie, 
“every one has to do something.” Effie 
was about N ancy’s age, tall and serious, with 
wonderfully bright dark eyes under a cloud 
of soft dark hair. 


109 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“There isn’t anything I can do,” said 
Roger anxiously. 

“I know,” said Aunt Minty, smiling 
across the table at him. “When we get 
where it’s polite to whisper, I’ll tell you 
all about it.” 

When supper was over, Lissy helped 
wash dishes. Nancy cuddled the two Story 
babies. Aunt Minty talked softly to Roger 
in a firelit corner. By and by, she called 
Susy, who joined in the whispers and gig- 
gles. And when Roger and Susy came back 
to the others before the fire, they were very 
quiet and important with their secret, what- 
ever it was. 

When every one was ready David and 
Anne threw open the doors into the long 
room which ran across the whole front of 
the house. There stood the biggest Tree 
yet, sparkling with lights, and gleaming 
110 


THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 


with tinsel, colored balls, bells, and birds. 
At the very top flashed a great white star. 

After the “Oh-ing” and “Ah-ing” had 
died down a little, and every one had found 
a seat, Aunt Minty said, 

“As Effie said, we always have some sort 
of a simple little program with our Christ- 
mas Trees. We think, here at Clover 
Patch, that we have better times when every 
one has something to do toward making 
them. Now, every one, do just the thing 
you like to do. That’s almost always the 
thing you can do best, you know. First 
of all, because she’s my oldest daughter, 
I’ll call on little Anne.” 

Anne stepped out of the group and faced 
the eager little faces, smiling and blushing 
a little. 

“Last night,” she said, “I wrote a little 
Christmas poem. It isn’t very good but I’m 
111 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


going to say it to you. I call it ‘Christmas 
Candles.’ ” 

Then, still smiling and blushing, Anne 
recited : 


“Said a little crimson candle to a candle all 
in green, 

As together on the Christmas Tree their 
pretty heads did lean, 

‘With glance so bright and dance so light, 
let’s try — just you and me — 

To set the night alight with joy for every- 
one to see!’ 

“And somehow all the candles — the dear 
Miss Netticoats : — 

They heard the happy whisper and cleared 
their sputtery throats, 

With glance so bright and dance so light, 
with all her little heart, 

To set the night alight with joy, each did 
her little part. 

“Their little rays went such a ways they set 
the room ablaze; 

The fire saw and told the wind that in the 
chimney stays, 

112 


THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 


The wind told all the snowflakes, the 
snowflakes told each breeze, 

The breezes told the other fires, the fires 
the other Trees. 

“Old candles told the gold ones, the gold 
ones told the blue, 

The blue ones told the new ones, till every 
candle knew. 

With glance so bright and dance so light, 
on every Christmas Tree, 

They set the night a-light with joy for 
everyone to see. 

“The Moon-Man laughed to see them — it 
was a pretty sight, 

Ten million billion candles all dancing in 
the night! 

The stars rushed out together — with 
twinkles in their eyes, 

And for each candle on the earth they lit 
one in the skies!” 

“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Marjory, when Anne 
had finished and the clapping had died 
down a little. “Did you make that all up, 
every bit yourself?” 

Anne nodded. 

“The babies like my verses,” she said 
113 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


modestly. “So I do a good many of them.” 

“I’m going to write a book, myself, some- 
day,” confided Marjory. “But I don’t be- 
lieve I can write any poems like that.” 

Just here, Aunt Minty called on Joe. 

“John’s going to help me out,” said Joe. 

With Betty to play for them on the piano, 
Joe and Johnny sang a college song. Every 
one liked it so well they had to sing several 
others. By the end of the third every one 
was singing. And Fritz was beating his 
tail up and down like a baton. 

“Effie, next,” called Aunt Minty. 

Effie, who was the soberest looking little 
person, made them laugh till they cried, 
with a funny reading. They were still 
wiping their eyes when Aunt Minty called 
for Lissy. 

“I’ve said so many times that I couldn’t 
do fancy things like Margie and Betty,” 
114 


THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 

said Lissy, “that Joe’s written this for me 
to say. I hope you’ll like it.” Then she 
recited : 

“Said a busy young woman, named Penny, 
Accomplishments I haven’t many. 

But, say, I can make 
The best ’lasses cake — 

You’ll want a whole tinful, if any!” 

“I didn’t know you wrote poetry, Joe,” 

cried Marjory. 

“Won’t you please write one for me,” 
begged Martha. 

“ ’Tisn’t as good as Lissy’s gingerbread,” 
said Joe. 

“She shall make some to-morrow,” said 
Aunt Minty. 

David came next. He imitated a robin, 
then a bluebird, and then a song-sparrow 
so cleverly, that Fritz, who had been dozing 
sat up and looked wildly around. 

“I had to just be the fat lady in our 
115 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


circus, last summer,” said Martha, when she 
was called upon, “ ’cause there isn’t really 
anything I can do ” 

“If I can help her,” said Martin eagerly, 
“we’ll try to make Fritz do a trick we taught 
him.” 

“Fritz took part in the little game of 
balls with great good nature. He caught 
them in his mouth, batted at them with his 
paws, ran after them, and brought them 
back. Finally, he ran to the Tree, picked 
out a jumping-jack, and carried it to Betty, 
his tail wagging gleefully. 

When Clover and Junior, Anne’s babies, 
went, hand in hand, to say a rhyme, he went, 
too, standing between them. No one knew 
what the babies said, but every one was 
delighted with them — and the dog. Nancy 
Spindle ran to them, picked them up, and 
snuggled them both in her motherly arms. 

116 


THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 


“Your turn, Nancy,” said Aunt Minty. 

Nancy sat right down on the floor with 
the kiddies in her arms. 

“Christmas isn’t quite Christmas, is it?” 
she said, “without the Christmas Story? 
May I just tell it to the babies — you needn’t 
listen.” 

But every one listened, hushed and quiet, 
while Nancy told in her own sweet way 
about the little town of Bethlehem, and the 
shepherds, the song, the star, the manger, 
and the Baby. And when she took her seat 
again, Betty said softly, 

“Please make it my turn, Aunt Minty. 
And I’ll play the Bethlehem Song, and 
we’ll all sing it together.” 

So, while Betty played, they all sang, 
“Little Town of Bethlehem,” “Holy 
Night,” and “It Came Upon the Midnight 
Clear.” 


117 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


When Marjory’s turn came, she was so 
full of Christmas that she fairly gleamed 
with joy and good-will to everybody. 

“I’m going to be a little Christmas Can- 
dle, like the one in Anne’s poem,” she said. 
“The crimson one who started all the others 
to shining. Betty, you please play some- 
thing that sounds like fires and candles and 
stars and snowflakes, will you?” 

Betty laughed, as she went back to the 
piano. 

“I’ll do my best,” she said. 

Marjory was lovely as a Christmas Can- 
dle. She flickered and twinkled and sent 
out rays as she spun about. Then she called 
out to them all to be Christmas Candles 
with her, and such a merry dance as they 
had about the tree, Fritz side-stepping along 
with the others. 

At the end of the dance, when every one 
118 



“ She flickered and twinkled and sent out rays as 

SHE SPUN ABOUT.” 





THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 


was breathless, out from either side of the 
tree sprang two* little figures. One was 
Santa Claus — every one knew him. And 
the other, every one guessed, was Mrs. 
Santa Claus. They took hold of hands, 
bowed, and said, 

“A Merry Christmas to Every One!” 

Then, while Aunt Minty took oranges, 
apples, candy, and nuts from the tree, they 
distributed them. 

“And now for the Jack Horner Pie,” 
cried Aunt Minty. 

Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus dashed behind 
the tree again, and came back, bringing 
between them a wonderful pie. It had 
been made by covering a big dish-pan with 
brown p*aper. It was painted to look ex- 
actly like a pie. 

“Come, put in your thumb, 

And pull out your plum!” 

119 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


cried Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus, as they 
passed the big pie in and out among the 
little folks. 

The plums were funny enough — they had 
been planned for Aunt Minty’s babies. 
There were rattles and woolly lambs and 
furry cats and squeaking pigs. Marjory 
drew a donkey who brayed when you pulled 
a string. Martin drew a plum for Fritz. 
It turned out to be a chocolate mouse. 
Fritz swallowed it with one gulp, and 
begged for another. 

When all the plums had been drawn, 
they all settled down around the fire. Out- 
side, the wind roared and the snow drove 
against the windows. But the cold snowy 
outside only made the warm bright inside 
cheerier and cozier. Junior and Clover 
were soon fast asleep. Fritz snored loudly. 

120 


THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 


Margie’s golden head nodded. She sat up 
straight suddenly, saying, 

“Oh, was that a dream? It was some- 
thing about when Fritz was just a little 
little dog — I can’t remember what.” 

“Before you start in on another dream, 
Margie,” said Aunt Minty, “let’s go to bed, 
where you can do it more comfortably. 
Now, let’s see — Anne, you take one baby, 
and I’ll take the other. Nancy, you go in 
with Effie — you’ll like Effie’s room. Betty, 
Martha, Lissy, Margie, and Susy can have 
the big Clover room with the alcove. 
There are two beds in that and a cot beside.” 
“What fun!” cried Lissy. 

“John, you take Joe,” went on Aunt Min- 
ty, counting off her household. “That 
leaves Roger and Martin and David to go 
in David’s big room — one on the cot. 

121 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Everything comes out exactly right. Fritz, 
you planned your house party well.” 

“Aunt Minty’s like the little old lady who 
had so many children, only she isn’t old, 
and she does know what to do with them,” 
said Lissy. 

“Where does Fritz sleep?” said Marjory. 

“He has a bed in the kitchen, always 
ready, when he wants to use it,” said Aunt 
Minty. “But there’s no telling where he 
may decide to go to-night. Among so many 
friends, it will be hard to choose, won’t it, 
old fellow?” 

Fritz sat up stiff and straight before the 
dying fire. He, probably, was making up 
his mind. Anyway, later, when giggles and 
chatter from the different rooms up-stairs 
told that every one was going to bed, he 
bounded up the stairs, and without any hesi- 
122 


THE FIFTH CHRISTMAS TREE 

tation stretched himself out on the rug be- 
side David’s cot in the boy’s room. 

“He’s always true to his baby,” said Aunt 
Minty, when she saw him. “Well, he’s 
known David longer than he has any of 
the rest of us, you see.” 


123 


CHAPTER VIII 


SNOW-BOUND 

ISSY was just going off in a dream 



when Marjory said softly, “What 


do you suppose Aunt Minty 


meant? She said Fritz had known David 
longer than he had any of the rest of us. 
Longer than Joe, do you suppose?” 

Lissy tried to answer, but only succeeded 
in grunting. But Betty’s voice from the 
cot in the alcove answered as softly as Mar- 
jory’s had asked, 

“I don’t know. Didn’t it sound interest- 
ing? Let’s not forget to ask about it be- 
fore we go in the morning.” 

But when morning came there was no 
question of any one’s going anywhere. 


124 


SNOW-BOUND 


Outside, there was nothing to see except 
snow, unless you counted the wind. Mar- 
jory was sure she could see that. 

“Where will all the snow go to?” she 
asked anxiously, “if it keeps on coming and 
coming and coming?” 

“There’s always room for all that comes, 
somewhere,” said Aunt Minty. “Well, I 
am sorry for those Grandmothers of 
yours who, of course, want you every single 
minute of your visit. But for myself, I’m 
delighted with Fritz’s house party.” 

The telephone was busy that morning. 
Marjory talked with Granny, who was 
afraid of telephones, but who must hear 
Marjory’s voice to be quite sure she was all 
right. Lissy talked with Grandma Beach. 
Susy talked with her mother, father, Jeanne, 
and Phil. And they all heard the baby’s 
cooing “Susy” over the wire. Then Uncle 
125 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


Ben talked with his bunch. And there was 
nothing to do, every one said, except to 
stay where they were and have as good a 
time as they could till the storm was over. 

It wasn’t hard to have a good time at 
Clover Patch. There was something for 
every one to do. The boys put on snow- 
shoes and helped Jake look after horses, 
cows, and chickens. Martha went along, 
but she had to be dug out of so many snow- 
banks that Martin soon brought her back. 
Lissy made gingerbread, singing as she did 
so. 

“It’s never good unless I do sing,” she 
explained. 

The babies kept Nancy busy. Margie 
and Betty sat by the fire, and Betty taught 
Marjory to knit. Betty, like her mother, 
was always knitting these days, warm, gray 
mufflers and sweaters for the soldiers over- 
126 


SNOW-BOUND 


seas. Marjory decided to make a muffler 
for Roger’s cousin, Dick. Aunt Minty and 
Effie and Anne were knitting, too. 

After dinner, shut in by a white wall of 
snow, they all trooped into the great living- 
room and played all sorts of games. Fritz, 
of course, took part. 

“Where in the world did that dog learn 
so many funny tricks?” cried Aunt Minty, 
as, tired out, they all dropped down to 
rest. 

“In the circus — most of them,” said Joe. 
And he told something of his own and 
Fritz’s life in Marshall’s Circus long before. 

“Betty and I want to know,” cried Mar- 
jory, when Joe’s story was done, “what you 
meant last night, Aunt Minty, when you 
said, that Fritz had known David longer 
than he had any of the rest of us.” 

“They were babies together,” said Aunt 
127 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


Minty. “And Fritz always seems to re- 
member it.” 

“But — how do you know, Aunt Minty?” 
cried Joe. 

“Did Fritz know David even before he 
did Joe?” said Martha eagerly. 

“Why bless my heart,” cried Aunt Minty, 
gazing at the curious faces of Fritz’s 
house party guests. “Don’t you know any- 
thing about Fritz before he was a circus- 
dog?” 

“Not one thing,” said Joe. 

“We’ve all tried so hard to find out,” 
said Betty. 

“Please, please tell us,” cried Marjory. 

“Every single thing you know,” begged 
Lissy. 

Before Aunt Minty could tell anything, 
however, Fritz who had been upstairs on 
some errand of his own, came down again, 
128 


SNOW-BOUND 


and trotted quietly across the room. In his 
mouth was a small, battered book. 

Anne and Effie, John, David, and Aunt 
Minty all laughed when Fritz brought the 
book proudly to Joe and laid it in his lap. 

“What’s this, old boy?” cried Joe. 

“That dog always seems to understand 
what we talk about,” said Aunt Minty. 
“Think of his bringing that book.” 

“It says, ‘The Fritz Book,’ ” said Joe. 

“ ( C. D. F.’ ” spelled Nancy, over Joe’s 
shoulder. “What is that?” 

“If you’ll all sit down and Fritz will 
keep still a minute,” said Aunt Minty, “I’ll 
tell you. It’s the litle book,” she went on, 
when something like quiet reigned, “that my 
Clovers kept the year Fritz came to us — 
and David, too, for that matter.” 

“So Fritz really lived with you once?” 
said several voices. 


129 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“When he was a puppy, for a long time, 
off and on,” said Aunt Minty. 

“Off, most of the time,” laughed John. 
“Wasn’t he a runaway, though?” 

“He ran away so often and came back 
with so many strange things,” said little 
Anne, “that we made ourselves into a de- 
tective force to find out all we could about 
him.” 

“How interesting,” cried Betty. 

“The Clover Detective Force,” said Effie, 
“C. D. F.” 

“The letters on the book,” cried Nancy, 
tracing them with an eager finger. 

“But did you find out?” said Marjory, 
hopping up and down in her excitement. 

“Yes,” laughed Anne. “And we found 
David, too.” 

“How mysterious,” said Betty. “It 
sounds just like a story!” 

130 


SNOW-BOUND 


“I can’t wait to' hear every single word 
of it,” cried Marjory. “Do, every one, sit 
down and keep still, and let some one tell 
us all about it.” 

They all fairly tumbled into seats of 
some kind. But every one kept asking 
something, and every one else kept trying to 
answer. Fritz got terribly upset and 
barked till both babies awoke and cried, 
and had to be comforted and quieted. It 
was some time before every one was ready 
for the story. 

“Who’ll begin?” asked Joe, his hand on 
Fritz’s collar to keep him still. 

“Let’s each tell something,” said Effie. 
“John can tell what he remembers, then 
Anne, then David, then Aunt Minty, then 
I.” 

“I don’t remember much— except as you 
tell me,” said John. “I was just a kid, 
then.” 

131 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“I don’t remember anything,” said David. 
“I wasn’t any bigger than June, was I?” 

“I remember it,” said Effie, “but I can’t 
tell it very well.” 

“Wait a minute,” said Aunt Minty, 
smiling at Anne. “May I tell them your 
secret, Anne?” 

“Why, yes, Aunt Minty, if you want to,” 
said Anne, her pretty color coming and 
going. 

“Listen, all of you,” said Aunt Minty. 
“For a long time little Anne has written 
stories and verses for children’s magazines.” 

“Just as I told them to my babies,” ex- 
plained Anne. 

“And awhile ago,” went on Aunt Minty, 
“she decided that she would write the story 
of Fritz when he was a puppy. She told 
me last night that ’twas all done, and that 

132 


SNOW-BOUND 


she’d like to read it to me. Now, I suggest 
that after supper — ” 

Aunt Minty’s voice was lost in the chorus 
of “Read it! Read it! Read it!” that went 
up from all sides. Fritz barked his warm 
approval. 

“Yead it! Yead!” cried the Clover baby. 

“Boof, boof, boof!” cried the June baby, 
crawling about on all fours, as much like 
Fritz as he could, while the old dog stopped 
barking to look on gravely. 

“Please,” trailed Betty’s voice after the 
others. 

“Why of course I’ll read it,” said Anne. 
“We’ll have an early supper and a nice 
long evening.” 

It didn’t take long to get supper with so 
many to help. And when it was all over, 
dishes washed, and babies in bed, the little 
group came again around the fireplace. 

133 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Anne sat by a little table with a big read- 
ing-lamp on it. Betty was on one side of 
her and Marjory on the other, both knit- 
ting. Roger was stretched out on the fur 
rug as close to Marjory as he could get. 
Joe wasn’t far from Betty. The Marties, 
of course, were side by side on pillows, near 
Aunt Minty. John, Effie, and Nancy hati 
chairs on the other side of the fireplace. 
David and Lissy and Susy were on the floor. 
Fritz curled up close to David. 

“Of course, parts of this,” Anne ex- 
plained, “Aunt Minty and Effie and John 
have told me. But I’ve taken it all and put 
it into ten chapters just as much like a real 
book as I could. And I’ve made John and 
Effie and every one just as much like book- 
people as I could. And if I can, I’m going 
to have it published — my babies will like 
it, anyway.” 


134 


SNOW-BOUND 

“We’ll all want copies,’ said Joe. “I can 
use six this minute.” 

“I’ll take a dozen,” said Marjory. 

“Wait till you’ve heard it,” said Anne. 
She picked up the neatly typed pages. 

Outside, the wind howled as if it would 
never leave off. The snow still drove 
against the windows. But inside, the fire 
crackled and burned red and warm. The 
lamp cast its soft rosy glow over all the 
eager little group. Fritz grunted sleepily. 
Once in awhile, when he heard his own 
name, he opened one eye, or thumped a 
drowsy tail on the floor. Aunt Minty’s and 
Effie’s needles clicked briskly. Betty’s and 
Marjory’s were always a little behind, and 
stopped entirely when the story was most 
interesting. And her cheeks rosy, little 
Anne read her story of 

WHEN FRITZ WAS A PUPPY 
135 


CHAPTER IX 


THE NEW BABY 

F OR the third time, Aunt Minty put 
down her mending — a pair of 
small trousers that belonged to 
Johnny. For the third time she listened. 
She picked up the trousers. One, two, three 
neat stitches she set in the patch. Then she 
dropped the trousers to listen again. This 
time, after a minute, she sprang up, and 
still holding Johnny’s trousers she went in 
search of the disturbing sound. 

The sound was something like a faint, 
far-off wail. To Aunt Minty’s ears, which 
always heard any sound of distress, it 
seemed like a baby’s cry. The golden wind 
that stirred the golden branches of the great 
136 


THE NEW B ABY 

elm beside the porch couldn’t wail. It was 
too happy. It didn’t seem that anything 
fortunate enough to be part of Aunt Minty’s 
big beautiful home that radiant September 
morning could wail. But — Aunt Minty 
heard the sound again. 

Of course, it wasn’t Effie. Effie was in 
school. Anyway, she was too big and sens- 
ible a little person to wail about anything. 
There had been days when Effie had wailed 
— and with good reason. It was because 
she had been so unhappy and uncared for 
that Aunt Minty had taken her from a small 
bare attic in a crowded city and brought her 
to Clover Patch and made her her own 
little girl. That was a long time ago. 
Effie was ten and a half now, and couldn’t 
remember any home besides Clover Patch. 

It wasn’t Johnny. Although Johnny had 
lived several years at Clover Patch, he did 
137 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


wail sometimes, even yet. He had come 
with a batch of “fresh air” children. As he 
belonged to no one in particular, Aunt Min- 
ty’s motherly heart and home had taken 
him in. Just now Johnny was in school — 
and more than usually happy because he 
was wearing his best trousers while his old 
ones were being patched. 

All the time Aunt Minty was thinking of 
these things, she was trying, too, to make out 
where the sound came from. 

“Down by the lilac bushes, most likely,” 
she said to herself. “If it is another baby 
— well, then ’tis! I shouldn’t mind. I’m 
sort of lonesome for a baby, now both my 
Clovers are in school.” 

Aunt Minty hurried along the sunshine- 
checkered path under the gold and scar- 
let maples toward the clump of lilacs down 
by the road. 


138 


THE NEW BABY 


Aunt Minty was round and rosy. She 
had white hair, but it was all full of waves, 
and couldn’t make her look old. Her eyes 
were blue and twinkly. Her cheeks were 
pink and dimply. Her mouth was sweet 
and turned up at the corners. When she 
was alone she had a happy little habit of 
singing or talking to herself. Everybody 
loved Aunt Minty. They just couldn’t 
help themselves. 

Half-way down the great front yard, the 
broad tree-shaded path met a smaller one 
that dipped down a little hollow into a 
garden. It was the happiest little plot, full 
of old-fashioned posies, where butterflies 
and birds and bees and sunbeams and little 
folks all had good times together. On the 
steps which led into it stood a slender, dark- 
haired little girl, with great serious dark 
eyes. 


139 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“Aunt Minty,” she said, “we came 
across lots from school, and we think we 
heard something crying somewhere. John- 
ny’s looking in the barn. I’ve been through 
the garden. Don’t you hear it?” 

Aunt Minty nodded. 

“It’s down in the lilac bushes, I guess,” 
she said. “Just as like as not, Effie, some 
one has heard of my baby farm up here at 
Clover Patch and left me another baby.” 

“Oh, oh!” cried Effie. “Wouldn’t that 
be lovely, Aunt Minty?” 

“Uh-huh,” said Aunt Minty, hurrying 
along. 

“I hope it will be a little tiny wee baby,” 
said Effie, hurrying to keep up with Aunt 
Minty. 

“Aint nothin’ cryin’ in the barn,” cried 
Johnny, springing into view from some- 
140 


THE NEW BABY 

where — a habit of his to which Aunt Minty 
couldn’t get used, somehow. 

“Johnny Jump-Up,” she cried. “Where 
did you come from? And wherever it was, 
did anybody there say ’ain’t nothin’? Do 
I say it? Does Effie? Does your teacher? 
Does any one?” 

“No one but me, I s’pose,” said Johnny. 
“But there ain’t — isn’t — nothin’ — anything 
— crying in the barn, Aunt Minty.” 

“There is down by the road,” said Aunt 
Minty, “or my name isn’t Araminta Clo- 
ver.” 

“Sounds good,” said Johnny, skipping 
along as close to Aunt Minty as he possibly 
could. 

“What — sounds good?” said Aunt Minty, 
stopping at Johnny. “That wail?” 

“No — your name, Aunt Minty,” cried 
Johnny. “It sounds just like a pep-mint 
drop.” 


141 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Effie’s nose went up scornfully. 

“Why Johnny Clover,” she cried. “It’s 
like out-of-doors, down by the brook, with 
the sun shining on the spearmint.” 

“That’s pretty, Effie,” said Aunt Minty. 
She gave Effie the special beaming smile 
that both her Clovers loved to get. 

Johnny, sprinting on ahead, gave a sudden 
loud whoop and disappeared into the great 
clump of lilacs. 

“There’s — a basket! “he cried, tugging 
at something. “Don’t touch it,” called 
Aunt Minty, almost running. “You might 
spill out the baby. Wait, Johnny.” 

By this time, Effie, too, had disappeared 
into the clump of lilacs. 

“It is, it is!” she cried. “It — wiggles! 
And it rattles.” 

“Rattles!” cried Aunt Minty. Quite 
out of breath, she came up with the children. 

142 


THE NEW BABY 


There, in the midst of the bushes, well- 
hidden by their green, was a good-sized 
basket of old-fashioned make. Its cover 
was tied firmly in place by stout cords. 

Very carefully, Aunt Minty lifted it. It 
was heavy. There was an unmistakable 
wiggle inside, and a rattle, like a baby’s 
rattle. 

“We’ll carry it right to the house,” she 
said, as excited as Effie and Johnny. “No, 
I’ll carry it alone — you run on ahead. 
John, see that there’s wood in the stove. 
And push the tea-kettle over front, Effie.” 

Away flew the children across the broad 
yard. Aunt Minty went more slowly by 
the path, tugging the basket. All was still, 
now, inside it. 

“Maybe it’s cried itself to sleep — poor 
little dear,” she said. “I don’t care if ’tis 
another baby — I guess Clover Patch can 
143 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


support another. I’ve never yet been sorry 
that I took Effie or Johnny. I hope this 
one is a boy — Johnny needs a brother.” 

As she crossed the sunny porch Aunt 
Minty’s mind was already busy with a 
name for her new baby. 

“There’s a good fire,” cried Johnny from 
the door. 

“And the kettle’s on,” said Effie. 

Into the big cheery kitchen went the 
three, the basket bobbing about between 
them. It bounced a little and rattled. 
But the baby didn’t cry any more. 

Effie ran for a pillow and blanket. 
Johnny brought the big shears to cut the 
stout cords. Aunt Minty set the basket on 
the table. 

“Poor, frightened, little dear,” she said. 

She cut the cords. Two eager little faces 
144 


THE NEW BABY 


crowded as close as they could. Aunt 
Minty lifted the cover. 

There was an eager little wail — half 
frightened, half joyful. Then into the 
center of the table sprawled a fat, awkward, 
brown and white bull-terrier puppy. He 
had a funny face — half dark, half white — 
which made him look fierce and good- 
natured at the same time. His eager nose 
wrinkled and sniffed. His big brown eyes 
went pleadingly from one to another of the 
surprised little group. He staggered on 
short unsteady legs across the table and 
crowded himself into Aunt Minty’s arms. 

“A — puppy!” cried Aunt Minty and Effie 
and Johnny all in one breath. 

Effie reached out two eager little arms 
for the puppy. She cuddled him close to 
her. 


145 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“You dear little doggie,” she said. 

The puppy put out a clean pink tongue. 
He licked her arm. If a puppy could 
purr, this one would have tried it at this 
happy moment. 

“Well, I’m beat!” cried Aunt Minty. 
“What on the face of the earth can I do 
with a dog-baby? I don’t know anything 
about dogs.” She looked helplessly at the 
bit of a dog in Effie’s arms. 

“I’ll heat some milk,” said Effie prac- 
tically. “I suppose dog-babies are some- 
thing like real babies, aren’t they, Aunt 
Minty?” 

Meanwhile the puppy crawled out of 
Effie’s arms. He steered as straight a 
course as he could towards Johnny. 

“Nice old fellow,” cried Johnny. “Dogs 
like boys best. Just see him! He wants 
to come to me.” 


146 


THE NEW BABY 

“What shall we name him?” asked Ef- 
fie, as she brought milk from the ice-box 
and set it on the back of the stove to 
warm. 

“Moses,” said Johnny, “like that Bible 
baby who got put in some bushes.” 

Effie’s scornful little nose showed what 
she thought of Moses for a name for the 
new puppy. 

“Lilac would be sort of pretty,” she said. 

“Lilac Clover!” scoffed Johnny. 
“Sounds like a — a doll!” 

“It’s better than Moses,” said Effie. 
“But — there’s the milk. And it’s just right. 
Set him down, Johnny, so he can eat. What 
name do you like, Aunt Minty?” 

“Here’s a rattle,” said Aunt Minty, who 
had just remembered to look in the basket. 
“A real baby-rattle, with a red ribbon on 
the handle — it’s been used. And here’s a 
147 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


collar — that’s a brand new one. There’s a 
name on it. You read it, Effie — I’ve left 
my glasses in the work-basket.” 

The puppy spattered milk on the clean 
floor in his efforts to eat it all at once. 
Johnny took the collar, and Effie tried to 
read it over his head. 

“ A big ‘F’ ,” she said. 

“And a little V and a little T,” said 
Johnny, twisting the collar. 

“And a ‘t’ — do hold it still, Johnny,” 
said Effie. “And that last letter’s ‘z.’ 
F-r-i-t-z” she spelled slowly. 

“Fritz!” cried Aunt Minty. “His 
name’s Fritz!” 


“And that was you, Fritz,” cried Betty, 
as Anne paused at the end of her chapter. 

“That little bit of a brown and white 
puppy!” 

Fritz rolled his sleepy eyes from one to 
148 


THE NEW BABY 

another of his house party guests. He 
knew they were talking about him. 

“Do go on, Anne,” begged Marjory. “I 
can’t wait to know what happened next.” 


149 


CHAPTER X 


johnny’s trousers 

T HAT first night Fritz whined and 
cried just like a real baby. He 
wouldn’t sleep in the pretty bas- 
ket Effie fixed for him. Johnny said the 
basket was too fancy for a dog. So he 
brought in a box of straw from the barn. 
But the puppy wouldn’t stay in that either. 
Fie wouldn’t even try the cushion Aunt 
Minty brought for him. He just wanted 
to sit in somebody’s lap. And even then 
he made sorry little sounds in his throat 
like sobs. And his eyes were big and sorry 
— Effie said they had tears in them. 

Finally, long after their bedtime, the 
children went to bed. Aunt Minty straight- 
150 


JOHNNY’S TROUSERS 


ened up the table in the living-room and 
locked the doors. Fritz stumbled patiently 
along back of her, wherever she went. 
Every few steps, he tumbled over and 
whined to be picked up. When she went 
up-stairs, he went along. While she 
brushed out her hair, he sat in a disconso- 
late little heap at her feet. 

“What shall I do with you, puppy?” she 
cried at last. “I wish you had been a real 
baby — I could take care of him.” 

Just then Fritz discovered Effie’s long 
out-grown crib, which still stood in one 
corner of Aunt Minty’s room. He jumped 
on it, nosed it over, turned around three 
times and a half, and with a deep sigh of 
satisfaction went off to sleep. 

Then and there Fritz gave up whining. 
The next day he was as happy a puppy as 
any one ever saw. At the end of a month, 
151 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


with good food, good care, plenty of play 
and exercise, plenty of petting, he just bub- 
bled over with puppy-pranks. He went all 
over the place with Aunt Minty and the 
children. He loved the garden. He dug 
holes just for the fun of digging them. He 
took naps among the asters and bachelor 
buttons. He poked his little pink nose into 
every room in the house. He tore anything 
he could to shreds and ate as many of the 
shreds as he could. He hid things so you 
couldn’t find them. When you gave up 
looking, sometimes, he’d bring them back, 
tail drooping, the dark side of his face 
grave, the bright side laughing at you, Effie 
said. 

On the whole, he was as much at home in 
Clover Patch as if he’d always lived there. 
And where he had come from was just as 
much a puzzle to Aunt Minty and Effie 
152 


JOHNNY'S TROUSERS 


and Johnny as it had been the day he came. 
For -all any one could find out about him, 
he might have dropped straight from the 
bright September sky into Aunt Minty's 
lilac bush. 

“I’m surprised his folks don’t want him,” 
Aunt Minty said often. 

Effie and Johnny lived in constant terror 
that some one would come and claim the 
puppy. They talked it over often with 
Jake. Jake was the farmer who lived with 
his wife in the pretty farmhouse up the road 
and took charge of Aunt Minty’s big farm. 

“He’s one of them valuable dogs that 
can be taught to do almost anything, if 
you know how,” Jake said. “Must be 
worth a sight of money. I think some- 
body’s lost him.” 

But if somebody had, the “Ad’s” in the 
store at Clover Corner, the post-office at 
153 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Morrisville, and the city daily, didn’t find 
that somebody. For day after day, week 
after week, went by, and no owner came. 
To every one’s joy, Fritz seemed to have 
become a member of Aunt Minty’s family. 

Everything went along beautifully at 
Clover Patch until October brought Co- 
lumbus Day, and with it a little play at the 
Clover Corner school. Philip Cole was to 
be Ferdinand and wear a gilt crown which 
made the children call him “Old King 
Cole.” Effie was to be Queen fsabella. 
She almost cried because Aunt Minty 
wouldn’t let her have her ears pierced so 
she could wear some big earrings she found 
in a box in the attic. Johnny was greatly 
honored by being chosen for Columbus, 
himself. He was to sail in an over-turned 
table — the Pinta — flying a gorgeous red and 
yellow flag made out of some (pieces of 
154 


JOHNNY’S TROUSERS 


cloth Aunt Minty had colored for a rug 
and hadn’t cut up yet. 

The trouble began at the breakfast table. 
Aunt Minty discovered that Johnny had 
on his best trousers instead of the old 
patched ones. 

“John Thomas Clover,” she said, her 
mouth as stern as so rosebuddy a mouth 
could be. “Why did you put on your new 
trousers for a school day?” 

“It’s a very special day, isn’t it, Effie?” 
said Johnny. 

Effie nodded. 

“It’s Columbus Day,” she said. “But, 
Johnny, really and truly, your trousers won’t 
show a mite when you discover America. 
You’re to wear Miss Marvel’s coat, you 
know, and it’s long. You’re coming to see 
us, aren’t you, Aunt Minty?” 

Aunt Minty nodded. Then she turned 
155 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


to Johnny. Her eyes twinkled, but she 
spoke firmly. 

“Before you discover America or any- 
thing else, John,” she said, “go upstairs and 
discover your old trousers and get into them. 
Your new ones must stay new till after 
Thanksgiving, because something very 
special’s going to happen then, that will 
take all the good clothes it owns.” 

“But, Aunt Minty,” began Johnny. 

“John,” said Aunt Minty. 

“There ain’t no use,” said Johnny. Then 
at the look in Aunt Minty’s eyes, he blun- 
dered on “isn’t no — isn’t any — I mean, there 
isn’t any use, Aunt Minty. ’Cause they 
aren’t there— honest they aren’t.” 

“Your trousers aren’t in your room, 
John?” 

“No, Aunt Minty.” Johnny’s face was 
156 


JOHNNY’S TROUSERS 

very red and his eyes looked straight into 
his dish of oatmeal. “I’ve looked.” 

“When?” 

“This morning.” 

“They were last night, weren’t they?” 

“Yes, Aunt Minty.” 

“Who’s been in your room since, except 
John Thomas Clover?” 

“No one,” said Johnny, adding “except 
Fritz.” 

“He might have run off with the trou- 
sers,” said Effie anxiously. 

“He might.” Aunt Minty looked at 
Fritz on the floor beside Johnny’s chair. 
The puppy looked back solemnly. She 
looked at Johnny who didn’t look back at 
all. “Fritz has taken off as big things as 
your trousers, John.” 

“I didn’t say he took them,” cried John- 
ny. “I said they weren’t in my room.” 

157 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“I’ll look,” said Aunt Minty. “But 
there isn’t time now before school. You 
will have to wear your best trousers to-day, 
John. But be careful of them. Trousers 
don’t grow on bushes. Here’s your lunch- 
box.” 

As Aunt Minty searched Johnny’s room 
her face was puzzled and troubled, too. 
She had never known her boy to tell a lie. 
But she knew how he hated to wear the 
patched trousers. She thought of all the 
funny eager little reasons he’d given her for 
not wearing them. 

“If he’d only asked me this time,” she 
thought. 

She thought, too, anxiously, of how John- 
ny hadn’t much chance when he was a little 
boy to learn the right and wrong of things. 
His father and mother had both died when 
he was only a baby, and he had come up 
158 



“ ‘ If you took Effie’s bonnet and' hid it away like 

THAT, WHY NOT JOHNNY’S TROUSERS ? ’ ” 




JOHNNY’S TROUSERS 


almost any way. All the farmers’ wives 
in and near Clover Corner had shaken their 
heads at her for adopting a boy she knew 
so little about. “It won’t turn out well — 
you’ll see,” some of them said even yet. 

“It’ll turn out better for Johnny than if 
he’d stayed on the streets of New York City, 
I guess,” Aunt Minty said to herself, as she 
remembered the remark this morning. 

All through her search, Fritz followed 
her. Now, he stuck a curious nose into the 
closet. From somewhere, he brought out 
Effie’s given-up-for-lost sun-bonnet. 

“Well, I’m beat,” cried Aunt Minty. 
She dropped into a chair by the window, 
the sun-bonnet in her lap. Fritz stood up 
on his hind feet, put his paws on her knees, 
and looked at her gravely. “If you took 
Effie’s bonnet and hid it away like that, 
why not Johnny’s trousers?” 

159 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Just then, Aunt Minty happened to look 
out of the window into the scarlet maple 
that stood there. On a bright branch, just 
about on a level with her eyes, was a pair 
of small, patched trousers. 

“If they were pitched out of the window, 
that’s just about where they’d land,” she 
said grimly. 

With the handle of an umbrella she 
fished the trousers out of the tree. She 
spread them on Johnny’s bed. 

While she ate her dinner, changed her 
gown, and drove the old black horse to 
Clover Corner’s schoolhouse, she didn’t 
sing a note. 

The play went off finely. King Ferdi- 
nand listened gravely to Columbus’ plead- 
ings. Queen Isabella showered him with 
all the jewels she could borrow. Columbus 
sailed away with his troublesome crew 
160 


JOHNNY’S TROUSERS 


across the dark waters of an unknown sea. 
When his scarlet coat blew back, as he 
paced the deck, Aunt Minty could see the 
best brown trousers. 

Columbus landed on the shores of the 
western world. He greeted the surprised 
Indians with a cheery “Hullo!” He 
was just about to plant the Standard of 
Spain on the new soil, when poking open 
the unlatched door of the schoolroom, came 
an eager paw, a pink nose, a funny fierce 
puppy face, a wriggling body, and a tail 
with a joyous white tip. It was Fritz. In 
his mouth he held a pair of small patched 
trousers. 

Straight to the kneeling Columbus he 
panted. In spite of the scarlet coat, he 
knew his master. He stood beside him on 
the strange new shores. And in front of 
him carefully he laid the trousers. Then, 
161 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


tired out, but happy, the puppy stretched 
himself out for a nap under the proud old 
flag of Spain. 

Every one but Aunt Minty a'nd Johnny, 
himself, laughed. Johnny’s face was a 
mixture of surprise and something that 
looked like guilt. Aunt Minty wanted to 
cry. He darted a quick look at her. 
“How did he get them?” the look said, 
though Johnny didn’t know it. 

Going home, after school, somehow the 
old buckboard managed to hold all Aunt 
Minty’s family — even Fritz, who felt he’d 
walked far enough for one small puppy. 
Johnny was very quiet. So was Aunt 
Minty. Eflie did the talking, helped out 
by Fritz. 

Sitting alone that night, Aunt Minty 
mended a new rent in Johnny’s old trousers. 

“Of course ’twas a risk to take him,” she 
162 


JOHNNY’S TROUSERS 


told the crackling wood fire. “But ’twould 
have been more of a risk to leave him where 
he was.” 

There was a step on the stairs— a sob at 
the door. 

“Aunt Minty,” said Johnny’s voice. 

“Yes, John,” said Aunt Minty. 

Johnny’s face, flushed and wet, peered in 
at the door. 

“Aunt Minty,” he said, “I-I-I— ” 

“You want to tell me something, son?” 
said Aunt Minty. She opened her arms. 
Straight into them ran Johnny. 

“I lost the trousers, myself,” he sobbed. 
“It wasn’t Fritz. I threw them out of the 
window. I just hate patches, Aunt Minty. 
They caught on the tree. I don’t know 
how he found them.” 

“I know,” said Aunt Minty. “I took 
them out of the tree and put them on your 
163 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


bed. Fritz found them there, I suppbse, 
and took them to you.” 

“Did he know I threw them out the 
window?” sobbed Johnny. I i 

“No— but I did, John.” tub 

“Why didn’t you say so?” 

“I waited for you to tell me — I knew 
you would.” 

For a long time they talked. The fire 
burned low. The lump went out of John- 
ny’s throat, the pain out of his heart. 

“Oh, Aunt Minty,” said Johnny as at last 
he said good night, “you aren’t sorry you 
took me, are you?” 

“Never,” cried Aunt Minty. 

Aunt Minty put more wood on the fire, 
and picked up her mending, humming 
softly. Higher and higher leaped the 
flames. Brighter and brighter they glowed. 

164 


JOHNNY'S TROUSERS 


But their warmth was nothing like the glow 
in Aunt Minty’s heart. 

“Aunt Minty,” said Johnny’s voice again 
at the stair door. His face looked through 
the opening at her. “How did you know 
I did it — put those trousers in the tree, I 
mean?” 

“Fritz can do many things,” said Aunt 
Minty, “but even he can’t climb trees, 
Johnny!” 


“And were you really and truly that 
funny little boy who didn’t like patches?” 
cried Marjory at the end of the chapter. 
She gazed at John, so tall and big and 
strong, with such clear honest eyes. 

“Gee,” he said, his face so red every one 
laughed a little, “it doesn’t seem so. But 
I guess I was. I’ll always remember that 
day— every bit of it. How ashamed I felt 
165 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


when Fritz brought me those old trousers. 
And I know every single word Aunt Minty 
said to me that night.” 

John came over to put his hand on Aunt 
Minty’s shoulder. Aunt Minty smiled up 
at him. 

“Just suppose you hadn’t taken me?” he 
said, “whatever would have become of me?” 

“Just suppose I hadn’t,” said Aunt Minty, 
“whatever would have become of me. I 
couldn’t get along without my oldest son, 
John!” 


166 


CHAPTER XI 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 

^TTF only Fritz could go,” said Effie for 
I the dozenth time. 

It was the morning of the day be- 
fore Thanksgiving — the most beautiful 
Indian Summer day. It seemed just as if 
summer had decided to stay over and see for 
herself just how the year kept its Thanks- 
giving. 

Aunt Minty and Effie were packing two 
suit-cases. On the bed, all ready to put on, 
were Johnny’s best suit and Effie’s best 
gown. On a chair was Johnny’s new over- 
coat and cap. On another was Effie’s coat 
and hat. 

The Clovers were going to Uncle Gem’s 
167 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


for Thanksgiving. Uncle Gem lived miles 
away — or so it seemed to the excited little 
folks. 

First, there was the ride to Morrisville at 
the foot of the hill where you took the 
train. Then there was the railroad journey, 
short but interesting. At the end of that, 
Uncle Gem would meet them and take them 
to his farmhouse. 

If it hadn’t been for just one thing, the 
Clover Patch would have been the thank- 
fulest place anywhere around. The one 
thing was — Fritz couldn’t go. 

“Kate doesn’t like dogs,” Aunt Minty ex- 
plained for the dozenth time. “She always 
has cats — beautiful cats. And what with 
four or five of them, and the Twins, Minty 
and Gem, and the new baby, and you two, 
I guess the house will be full enough and 
noisy enough without Fritz.” 

168 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 


“I don’t see how any one can help liking 
dogs,” said Effie. 

Dinner was over at last. The suit-cases 
were stuffed, locked, and strapped. Jake 
harnessed the horses to the two-seated 
carriage. Everybody climbed in — but 
Fritz. If only it hadn’t been for the frantic 
yelps and howls that came from the barn 
where he was tied! 

“He’ll get over it,” said Aunt Minty. 
“Just as soon as Jake gets back he’s going 
to untie him and take him to his house and 
give him an extra good supper. We just 
couldn’t take him — that’s all.” 

In the excitement of unloading at the 
station, and of watching the crowds of 
people all going somewhere to have a good 
time, every one forgot Fritz. Jake drove 
away. The train was late. Just as its 
great eye came peering around the curve, 
169 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


and its hoarse voice whistled, something 
cold and wet poked itself into Effie’s hand. 
Close beside her there was a tired little 
“Woof!” And there, a piece of rope dan- 
gling from his collar, was Fritz himself. 

“What shall we do with him?” cried 
Aunt Minty. 

There wasn’t time to do anything. The 
brakeman was already shouting “All 
aboard!” People crowded before and be- 
hind them. Effie, with Fritz in her arms, 
was set on the train platform. 

“Dog in the baggage-car, Madam,” said 
the brakeman, as he helped Aunt Minty 
and Johnny aboard. 

Fritz was tired. He’d had a long strug- 
gle with the rope to break it, and a long 
run. As soon as he found a comfortable 
seat in the train beside Johnny, he curled 
170 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 


himself up into as small a ball as he could 
and went to sleep. 

Every coach on the long train was 
crowded. When the conductor reached 
their seats, they had so short a way to go, 
he said there was no use moving the puppy 
now. So all the way to Keen Fritz dozed 
happily on the red plush cushion. 

“Whatever Kate will say, I don’t know,” 
said Aunt Minty. “A dog — and she 
can’t bear dogs!” 

“Maybe she’ll like him,” said Effie hope- 
fully. “Fritz isn’t like other dogs.” 

“No,” said Aunt Minty laughing. “He 
isn’t. He’s going to make something quite 
unusual when he grows up, if he keeps 
on as he’s begun.” 

Fritz opened one eye and looked at her. 
Effie said he winked. 

“Why, Uncle Gem’s got a new nau-ter- 
171 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


mo-bul,” cried Johnny, when the train drew 
up at the little station of Keen. “I never 
saw but one before. One went by the 
schoolhouse one day — ” 

“The same day Fritz came,” cried Effie 
almost as much excited as Johnny, at sight 
of the shining new car, with Uncle Gem 
sitting proudly at the wheel. 

Uncle Gem helped them all in. He 
laughed when he saw the puppy and heard 
how he had followed them. He seemed to 
think it was a great joke on his wife. All 
the way home, when he wasn’t talking about 
his new car, he talked about what she would 
say when Fritz jumped out. 

Fritz enjoyed his ride. He wasn’t a bit 
afraid. He sat up, stiff and straight, be- 
tween Uncle Gem and Johnny. 

“Acts as if he’d been in cars all his life,” 
said Uncle Gem. 


172 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 

Soon the car flashed up the drive to Uncle 
Gem’s house. There on the porch stood 
Aunt Kate with the new baby in her arms. 
On each side of her was a Twin. And 
each Twin held a big gray cat. 

Aunt Minty and Effie and Johnny, with 
Fritz in his arms, ran up the steps. Aunt 
Minty reached for the baby. Like all 
babies he gurgled with delight at sight of 
her pink dimply face and laughing eyes. 
Everybody tried to say how glad everybody 
was to see everybody. Fritz decided he’d 
take part. He leaped to the ground. He 
wagged a delighted tail. He sidled up 
toward the cats. 

“Woof !” he said in his friendliest fashion. 

“A dog!” cried Aunt Kate, catching sight 
of him for the first time. She threw up her 
hands in horror. It was a good thing Aunt 
Minty had the new baby. 

173 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“The jolliest little puppy,” said Uncle 
Gem, while Aunt Minty’s anxious voice 
tried to explain Fritz’s being there. 

“Pst-st-st!” said one of the cats, who all 
this time, had been getting his tail and back 
to the size so impudent a visitor as Fritz re- 
quired. 

“Pst-st-st!” with a few more “sts,” said 
the other cat. He was one big fluff of angry 
fur, and his eyes were like great golden 
coals. 

Then — there was a leap of cats — a chorus 
of growls and howls, some loud yelps and 
more “Pst-st-sts!” Next — a streak of 

brown and white puppy crossed the moon- 
lit space of the lawn and disappeared toward 
the barn. It was followed by a streak of 
gray cat — two streaks of gray cat — and four 
other streaks that were Effie and Johnny, 
little Gem and little Minty. Back on the 
174 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 

porch Aunt Kate screamed, Uncle Gem 
laughed, Aunt Minty still explained, and 
the baby gurgled. 

“They’ll kill him!” cried Aunt Kate. 

They didn’t kill him, of course. But 
probably in all the world of puppies, there 
was never one more thoroughly frightened. 

Up to this time in his life, Fritz had 
always met friends. It was a great sur- 
prise to him that there were those in his 
little world who didn’t like him. When he 
had more time, Fritz meant to sit down and 
think it all out. But just now, he had all 
he could do to keep ahead of those two 
fierce, sleek beasties who came so softly, yet 
with such wonderful swiftness, behind him. 
As fast as his four frightened legs would 
let him, he ran. He saw a friendly opening. 
He dashed through it. He saw some stairs. 
He tore up them. 


175 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


Panting, he came into a big, quiet, sweet- 
smelling place, turned, and found himself 
face to face with a big black and white cat. 
She was washing her paws and making a 
soft buzzing sound in her throat. Fritz 
whined plaintively. He couldn’t go back 
to those furies below. This one, who 
looked like them, might as well do her 
worst. But to his surprise this sleek hand- 
some creature didn’t turn into a noisy whirl- 
wind of fur at sight of him. 

“Mew?” she said, arching her back 
prettily. It was the sweetest sound a fright- 
ened puppy ever heard. 

“Woof?” he questioned her, half under 
his breath. 

She came slowly toward him. She 
sniffed him, satisfied, stuck out a pink 
tongue, and licked his cropped ear. 

Five minutes later, four children hurried 
176 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 

up the stairs. They had caught and carried 
back to the house two justly angry gray 
pussy-cats. In the hay-loft, near the win- 
dow, they found Fritz. He was lapping 
hungrily from a saucer of milk. Near by, 
looking on amiably, was a black and white 
cat. 

When the milk gave out, Fritz curled 
down beside her. She licked his face, 
purring loudly and blinking up at the chil- 
dren, as if she was asking, “What new sort 
of kitten is this?” 

The children knelt down beside the happy 
family. Effie and Johnny petted the 
friendly pussy till she purred louder than 
ever. Gem and Minty went wild over the 
puppy. 

“We’ll let him stay right here,” said little 
Minty eagerly. “You see Nellie-cat had 
four lovely kittens and Mother’s given them 
177 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


away. She’s lonesome and Fritz is lone- 
some, too.” 

Even Aunt Kate laughed when she heard 
that Nellie-cat 'had adopted the puppy. 
She and the baby, too, went with Uncle 
Gem and Aunt Minty and the children to 
see the dog and cat together in the hay-loft. 
Both had a good supper and both went off 
to sleep in the happiest fashion, although 
for awhile Fritz had bad dreams in which 
great gray cats with golden eyes took active 
part. 

In spite of the fact that he hadn’t been 
invited, in spite of his bad beginning, Fritz 
had the best time that Thanksgiving morn- 
ing. He made up his mind he didn’t like 
cats, anyhow, unless they were black and 
white and motherly, with soothing buzzy 
sounds in their throats. Children were so 
much better. And chickens were made 
178 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 

just to chase about. There was an old horse 
who liked to have him around. And best 
of all, there were cows. Fritz loved them, 
at once, and the rich warm milk. 

“He’s a fine little chap,” Uncle Gem said, 
when he and the children went to the house 
to get ready for Thanksgiving dinner. 
Fritz and Nellie were left sunning them- 
selves on the barn floor. “I’d like him 
myself if it wasn’t for Kate and her cats. 
Only trouble with that breed of dog is 
they’re almost always runaways. No mat- 
ter how good a home they have, they will 
rove.” 

That was the best Thanksgiving dinner 
any one ever had. At the end, with the 
ice cream, came some delicious little cakes, 
with letters on the icing. There was a green 
“E” for Effie and a pink “J” for Johnny. 
Effie and Johnny had just telegraphed each 
179 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


other that they’d save their cakes for Fritz 
and Nellie, who wouldn’t mind if the letters 
didn’t fit, when Aunt Kate smiled at them 
and dropped a little cake with a yellow “F” 
on it on Johnny’s plate. 

“For Fritz?” cried Johnny. 

Aunt Kate nodded. 

“Nellie doesn’t eat cake,” she said. 

Effie and Johnny and the Twins ran all 
the way to the barn to give Fritz his Thanks- 
giving cake. But he wasn’t there. Nellie 
was sound asleep in the hay-loft. But Fritz 
wasn’t anywhere, though they spent all the 
rest of the short, bright afternoon searching 
and calling. 

“He’ll be around at milking time,” said 
Uncle Gem. But he wasn’t. And when 
the children went to bed, he hadn’t come. 
Effie slept in a big bed with Aunt Minty. 
Johnny had a little room just off theirs, 
180 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 

which had a window over the porch roof. 

Maybe because the moon was so bright, 
maybe because he’d eaten so many unusual 
things, maybe because he was anxious about 
Fritz, for a long time, Johnny couldn’t go 
to sleep. When he did he was awakened 
suddenly by a sharp tinkly little sound 
somewhere out of doors. He hopped out of 
bed and looked out of the window. He 
could hear voices down stairs. It was still 
night — not morning as he had thought. 

Another sharp buzzing little tinkle — it 
was a bicycle bell. Johnny could hear the 
whiz of the bicycle coming down the road. 

He climbed out on the roof. Past the 
yard, along the moonlit road, flew a wheel. 
On it was a girl in red. In front of her, 
on the wheel, was fastened a deep round 
basket. And sitting in the basket, his head 
half turned toward Johnny, was a dog. 

181 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Johnny could see his face, half dark, half 
bright. He could see his cropped ears. 
He could see the red bow little Minty had 
tied on his collar. 

“Fritz!” cried Johnny. He nearly tum- 
bled off the roof in his surprise and joy. 

“Fritz!” he cried again. He caught an 
apple-tree branch and leaned far out — as 
far as he could. 

He was sure he heard a faint little answer- 
ing “Woof!” as the wheel coasted down the 
tong hill below the farm. He shinned 
down the apple-tree as fast as he could. 
But before he reached the ground, the bi- 
cycle was quite out of sight. 

He tore across the porch and dashed into 
the living-room bright with firelight and 
lamplight. Aunt Minty, Aunt Kate, and 
Uncle Gem were visiting before the fire. 

182 


FRITZ MEETS AN ENEMY 


The clock was just striking nine. Johnny 
rubbed his eyes. 

“I saw Fritz,” he cried. “He was in a 
little tall basket on a wheel. And there 
was a girl, all red, riding the wheel. The 
bell rang.” 

Every one laughed. 

Uncle Gem took Johnny up in his lap. 

“Too much Thanksgiving turkey, my 
boy,” he said. 

“Just a dream, Johnny Jump-Up,” said 
Aunt Minty gently. “Put him down, Gem. 
He must run right back to bed. Fritz’ll 
probably be here when he wakes up in the 
morning.” 

“But what a funny dream,” cried Susy 
when this chapter ended. 

“I don’t think ’twas a dream,” said Mar- 
jory. 


183 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“Neither do I,” said Martin. 

“Was it?” cried Martha. “Was it a 
dream, John?” 

“Don’t dare spoil my story by telling, 
Johnny,” warned little Anne laughing. 

“Gee, Anne,” said Johnny. “Seems to 
me your story is all about me and the foolish 
things I did.” 

“Wait and see,” said Anne, reaching for 
the next chapter. 


184 


CHAPTER XII 


LITTLE ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 

N EXT morning, Fritz hadn’t come. 

The Clovers had to go home 
without him. All the way on 
the train, Effie and Johnny watched for 
him. At Morrisville, they expected to 
find him with Jake. But he wasn’t there, 
and Jake didn’t know anything about him. 

Without Fritz Clover Patch was as empty 
as so lovely a place could possibly be. You 
wouldn’t think anything so small as a 
puppy could take up so much room in a 
house — and in every one’s heart, as well. 

But Christmas was coming. And some- 
how Christmas has a cheery way of setting 
you at work, and keeping you so busy you 
185 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


can’t be too lonely — even if you are a little 
Clover and have lost the best puppy any 
one ever had. 

At school, Effie and Johnny were getting 
ready for a wonderful Christmas Tree. 
And at home, they helped Aunt Minty get 
ready for what she called her “Christmas 
Babies.” Aunt Minty had a way all her 
own of finding out about babies that weren’t 
well or happy, and of making things better 
for them. And she had a way, too, of mak- 
ing every one want to help her. This year, 
all Clover Corners was knitting and cro- 
cheting and sewing and saving pennies, 
nickels, and dimes, so that twelve babies in 
Morrisville might have a Merry Christ- 
mas. 

One afternoon, about two weeks before 
Christmas, Aunt Minty, busy with a paper, 
pencil, and what she called her Santa Claus 
186 


ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 


purse, looked up with a smile, as the Clovers 
burst into the room, filling it with late sun- 
shine, frosty breeze, and eager excited news. 

“There’s a new teacher,” began Effie, 
flinging her books in one chair and herself 
in another. 

“Miss Marvel’s gone home ’cause her 
mother’s sick, and she can’t come back, and 
I’m glad and sorry both together inside of 
me,” Johnny went on with the story, when 
Effie paused for breath. “And we’ve got 
a Miss Anne — she’s so little she says we can 
call her by her first name with a Miss before 
it, doesn’t she, Effie?” 

“Five dollars more would do it,” said 
Aunt Minty, smiling absently at the excited 
children, “ with what I’ll have left.” 

“I just love her,” cried Effie. “But she’s 
got the sorriest eyes, Aunt Minty.” 

“Guess yours would be sorry, Effie Clo- 
187 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


ver,” cried tender-hearted Johnny, “if your 
father was dead and everybody, and you’d 
been sent somewhere and they didn’t want 
you, and the ship went down and everybody 
was drowned! Wouldn’t they, Aunt 
Minty? Wouldn’t Effie’s eyes be big and 
sorry-looking?” 

“What is the boy talking about?” cried 
Aunt Minty, really hearing for the first 
time. “Do tell me, Effie, so I can under- 
stand. Who’s been drowned?” 

“Well,” said Effie, “I don’t exactly know 
myself. But Nora Cole told me — she’s 
staying there — ” 

“Who’s staying where?” said Aunt Minty, 
folding up her paper and putting it into 
the Santa Claus purse. 

“Miss Anne — our teacher — is staying at 
Nora Cole’s, ’cause it’s the trustee’s, till she 
can find another boarding place. Nora says 
188 


ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 

she didn’t have any one of her own, anyway, 
but just her father, and he died. So she 
came to New York, from Liverpool, or 
somewhere, to a cousin’s — or somebody’s. 
And the ship went down. But she was 
picked up and brought along on another. 
And then, when she did get to New York, 
her cousins didn’t want her — nobody seems 
to. Nora says her mother says she can’t 
board a teacher. And where Miss Marvel 
boarded they won’t take her. But I should 
think anybody’d just love to have her. 
Anyhow, she’s learned how to teach 
school.” 

“She’s going to teach us right along,” 
said Johnny. “And I ain’t going to say 
‘ain’t’ any more. Honest, I ain’t 1” he 
added, as they both laughed. 

“I’m sorry I can’t have blue eyes,” said 
Effie. “Miss Anne has blue eyes.” 

189 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“Blue eyes wouldn’t look very well in 
your face, Effie,” said Aunt Minty. 

“But please may I wear my next-to-the- 
best hair-bows to-morrow?” went on Effie 
anxiously. “Miss Anne says we must all 
look just as neat as we can.” 

From that day on, almost all of Effie’s 
and Johnny’s talk was of Miss Anne. Aunt 
Minty was so taken up with her list of 
Christmas babies on which a brand new one 
had just been entered, that she didn’t take 
her usual interest in what they said. She 
heard of it, of course, but as she said after- 
ward, “It went in one ear, and out the 
other.” 

Then there came a stormy evening about 
a week before Christmas. The snow and 
wind were both out trimming the world in 
white for the great holiday. Once in 
190 


ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 

awhile, the moon looked down to see that 
everything was done just right. 

“Children,” said Aunt Minty. She shut 
the empty Santa Claus purse with a sharp 
click. “Sit down here by the fire and tell 
me, or Santa — just as you like — the one 
thing you want most for Christmas.” 

Effie laughed softly, but Johnny looked 
sober. They came and sat down, one on 
each side of Aunt Minty. Aunt Minty 
picked up a baby jacket she was crocheting 
out of rosy wool. 

“Johnny first,” she said, smiling at his 
eager eyes. 

“Santa Claus knows what I want,” he 
said. “I told him, ’cause you were so busy, 
Aunt Minty. But it might be well to tell 
him again.” 

He leaned toward the blazing fire on its 
way up the chimney. 

191 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“Please, Santa Claus,” he said, “I want a 
Fritz-dog, like the one I lost.” 

Aunt Minty dropped a stitch in her sur- 
prise. She had almost forgotten Fritz. 

“What if Santa should be out of dogs?” 
she said. 

“Santa has everything,” said Johnny 
firmly. “But it isn’t just a dog I want, it’s 
a Fritz-dog.” 

“Don’t set your heart on it, Johnny 
Jump-Up,” said Aunt Minty. “I’m afraid 
you won’t get it. It’s your turn, now, Effie. 
Do ask for something sensible, dear.” 

Effie’s cheeks flamed a sudden soft red. 

“There’s something I want just dread- 
fully, Aunt Minty,” she said, “but it’s you 
and not Santa Claus who can give it to me. 
It’s — I — oh, please, Aunt Minty, may I ask 
Miss Anne to come here for the Christmas 
vacation? She was going to stay at Nora’s, 
192 


ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 

though Nora’s mother didn’t want her. 
But now, Nora’s grandpa and grandma are 
coming from out west. And there won’t be 
room for Miss Anne. Nobody wants to 
take her at Christmas.” 

“Home’s the best place to spend Christ- 
mas, dearie,” said Aunt Minty. 

“But if you haven’t any,” said Effie, 
“you can’t spend it there. Miss Anne’s 
cousins in New York don’t want her. Nora 
saw her crying over a letter from them the 
other day, and she just knows they told her 
so. Besides, she hasn’t earned enough 
money so she can go, yet. Couldn’t we 
ask her? There’s such lots and lots of room 
in this lovely old Clover Patch.” 

“Effie,” said Aunt Minty quietly, 
“would you rather have Miss Anne for the 
Christmas vacation or a new muff?” 

Effie caught her breath. 

“Like Nora’s?” she said. 

193 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“I think Santa rather expected to bring 
you one,” said Aunt Minty. “But if you’d 
rather have Miss Anne for the visit, I can 
arrange it with him.” 

“Oh dear,” said Effie, “what made you 
ask me, Aunt Minty?” 

“You are the only one who can decide, 
dear,” said Aunt Minty. “Think it over 
until to-morrow before you go to school. 
I’m going to town in the afternoon to see if 
I can’t raise enough extra money for some 
Christmas dinners for my Christmas babies’ 
families. There’s a muff at Brown’s, like 
Nora’s.” 

It was a little whisper that Aunt Minty 
heard from Effie, next morning, just as she 
was starting for school. 

“I need a muff so much, Aunt Minty,” 
she said. “It’s going to be a long, hard 
winter, Jake says.” 


194 


ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 

“Your old one’s warm enough yet,” sug- 
gested Aunt Minty. 

“I thought I’d give that to some poor 
little girl who hasn’t any,” said Effie. 

“Very well, dear,” said Aunt Minty, “a 
little sister of one of my Christmas babies 
is just your age. She’d like it.” 

Effie went after Johnny, who was calling 
her from the road. But she didn’t run. 

Aunt Minty was just sitting down to an 
early dinner when the door burst open. In 
flew Effie. Her cheeks were as red as her 
cap. Her eyes were bright and excited. 

“I won’t take the muff, Aunt Minty,” she 
cried. “I left my lunch and ran all the 
way home, so as to get here before you 
started to town. I’d rather have Miss 
Anne. May I ask her this afternoon?” 

“Yes, dearie,” said Aunt Minty with one 
of her beamiest smiles. “And I’ll ask her 
195 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


too. I’m going to stop at the school this 
afternoon, to see if she would be willing 
to charge ten cents admission to your Christ- 
mas Tree and turn in the proceeds towards 
those Christmas babies.” 

That night, when Aunt Minty drove 
from Morrisville, Effie met her at the 
gate. 

“Didn’t you like Miss Anne, Aunt 
Minty?” she cried, as she climbed into the 
sleigh. “Didn’t you just love her?” 

“She’s too little to teach school,” said 
Aunt Minty. “And she looks starved.” 

“She’s so happy,” said Effie, “just think- 
ing that she’s coming to Clover Patch. She 
thinks you’re an angel — she said so.” 

“A rather plump angel,” laughed Aunt 
Minty, as she and Effie hurried to the 
house. “Well, with the proceeds from your 
Christmas Tree, and what I raised to-day, 
196 


ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 


I’ll have enough for those Christmas din- 
ners, so that’s off my mind.” 

The Clover Corner Christmas Tree was 
held on the afternoon of the twenty-third of 
December. That night little Miss Anne 
came home with Effie and Johnny. She 
was a pale, quiet, little person, with big 
sorry eyes and hair that would curl around 
her ears, in spite of all she did to stop it. 
It made her look just like a little girl, in- 
stead of a really truly school-ma’am. Al- 
most at once, she found things to do for 
Aunt Minty. She tied up toys and jackets 
and booties for the Christmas babies. She 
helped fill baskets with groceries and fruit 
and candy. She seemed to like to be busy. 

The next afternoon, Aunt Minty and Effie 
and Johnny and Miss Anne, and all those 
bundles and baskets, somehow got them- 
selves into the big sleigh. With Jake to 
197 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


drive, away they went to Morrisville. 
How the sunbeams flashed on the snow. 
How the sleighbells jingled! At each of 
the thirteen houses on the list Effie and 
Johnny left a big basket and some bundles 
tied with bright ribbon, and a jolly Christ- 
mas card. 

When the last one was left, the great red 
sun was setting back of a tall slender church- 
spire. The busy street leading toward it 
looked like a frosty Christmas postcard. 

Even the horses seemed to know it was 
Christmas Eve. They pranced up the hills 
like young colts. When they turned into 
the yard old Clover Patch stood, dark and 
quiet, against the snow-covered hills and 
crimson sky. High over its roof sparkled 
one star. 

“Oh, it’s so lovely to be coming home — 
and have it Christmas Eve — and the babies 
198 


ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 

and every one happy — and everything!” 
cried Effie. 

Her voice trembled with joy inside of 
her which must somehow get out, and yet 
couldn’t find quite the right words. 

“It’s — heavenly!” cried Miss Anne sud- 
denly. “Oh, Miss Clover, how I wish I 
was a baby ! Then maybe you’d adopt me !” 

When that little speech was out, Miss 
Anne was frightened to think of what she’d 
said. 

Aunt Minty was just getting out of the 
sleigh. On the ground, she turned to look 
at Miss Anne. It was almost as if she’d 
never really seen her before. 

“You poor homesick child,” she cried, 
reaching up both arms to Miss Anne. 
“Here my stupid old head’s been so full of 
those blessed babies — and you needing me 
even more, maybe!” 


199 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“It’s so homey here,” sobbed Anne from 
the shelter of Aunt Minty’s arms. “If I 
help you out of school, couldn’t I stay here 
— just till June?” 

“Let me think, dear,” said Aunt Minty. 
“We’ll see. It’s your home till after New 
Year’s anyway — thanks to Effie. “She 
reached out a hand to Effie, and with Johnny 
clinging to Effie they started toward the 
house. 

“Boof! Boof! Boof!” across the Christ- 
mas stillness came a glad bark. There was 
a mad rush, a scramble, Johnny was lying 
on his back in the soft snow. There sitting 
a-top him, thumping him with big good- 
natured paws, was a brown and white 
puppy. 

“Where did he come from?” cried Effie. 

“Santa Claus, of course,” said Johnny, 
scrambling to his feet, and clutching wildly 
200 


ANNE COMES TO CLOVER PATCH 


for Fritz. “See that Christmas ribbon on 
his collar.” 

With Fritz in every one’s way, with every 
one trying to get hold of him, somehow, 
they all got into the kitchen. And when 
Aunt Minty had lighted the lamps, every 
one could see the bit of holly ribbon tied 
to the dog’s collar. 

Just then, Jake came in from the barn. 
In the palm , of one big brown hand, he 
held a small pink baby shoe. 

“That puppy dropped this, I guess,” he 
said slowly. “I found it out there in the 
road by the barn door. He must have 
brought it along from wherever he’s been. 
He always did like shoes.” 

“Well, I’m beat,” cried Aunt Minty. 
She sat down in the big rocking-chair, the 
little pink shoe in her hand. 

“Probably Santa meant that for some 
201 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


baby somewhere,” suggested Johnny. He 
was already heating a big saucer of milk 
for Fritz. “Anyway, I’m glad he remem- 
bered to bring me my dog.” 


“Do you really like it as much as you 
seem to?” asked Anne, pausing at the end 
of this chapter to look at the absorbed faces 
all about her. 

“It’s splendid,” said Nancy Spindle. 

“Great,” said Joe. 

“I just love that about the baby shoe,” 
said Lissy. “But I can’t think where he 
found it, can you, Margie?” 

“Not yet,” said Marjory. “But please 
don’t stop, Anne, go on.” 


202 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE FRITZ BOOK 

O F course every one had to hang 
up a stocking. Johnny lent 
Fritz one of his. Johnny him- 
self didn’t really expect anything more, 
because Santa Claus had sent him the puppy. 
But it was well to be prepared if any- 
thing else should come his way. So he 
hung his stocking between the puppy’s and 
Effie’s. Next came Anne’s and Aunt 
Minty’s. 

Next morning Aunt Minty was in the 
midst of a troubled dream. She had adop- 
ted thirteen Christmas babies all at once, 
and hadn’t names enough to go around. 
Then “Boof! Woof!” sounded cheerily in 
203 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


her ears, and there was Fritz poking a cold 
nose into her face, and saying, “Merry 
Christmas!” just as well as he could. 

She left him to awaken the other Clovers, 
and hurried down stairs to start a roaring 
blaze in the fireplace. It wasn’t long be- 
fore they all trooped in. Miss Anne, with 
tumbled hair down her back, looked as 
much like a little girl as Effie did. 

And those five flat uninteresting stock- 
ings by some Santa Claus magic had turned 
into queer-shaped, interesting objects that 
didn’t look like stockings at all. Some 
were still slim-legged, but had plumped- 
out feet. Some seemed to have no feet, but 
well-rounded legs. All showed fascinating 
bunches and bulges and curves and corners. 
So before breakfast, or any such everyday 
thing could be thought of, they had to be 
taken down and emptied with delightful 
204 


THE FRITZ BOOK 

rustics and rattles of paper and giggles and 
squeals and “Ohs” and “Ahs” and “Looks” 
and “Sees” on the part of the Clovers them- 
selves. 

“I didn’t know that Santa Claus could 
knit and sew so well,” said Aunt Minty. 
She wore a new white apron and a warm, 
woolly lavender jacket. Out of the toe of 
her stocking she had just brought a gay 
green and red holder. 

“He didn’t make the holder, ” said 
Johnny. “Effie did, for me to give to you, 
Aunt Minty.” 

“ And Mrs. Jake helped me quite a good 
deal with the jacket,” explained Effie. 

“I like them all the better for that, chil- 
dren,” said Aunt Minty. 

She smiled as she looked at her little Clo- 
vers. Johnny had on the coat of his new 
“grown-up” suit. His new tie .flamed 


205 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


under one ear. Effie was reading a book, 
her stiff bronze shoes already on, stretched 
out stiff and straight before her. Anne was 
attired in a cap and scarf of rose-colored 
wool. 

“Santa Claus knew what I needed,” she 
said. “How warm and cozy these will be 
to wear to school all winter.” 

“Your Christmas visit here is Aunt 
Minty’s gift to me,” said Effie, closing her 
book. “And it’s my gift to you, Miss Anne. 
It wouldn’t go in your stocking.” 

“It goes in my heart,” cried Miss Anne. 
“I just couldn’t bear to think Christmas was 
coming. And all the time it was bringing 
me such lovely gifts. It’s good to be a Clo- 
ver — Aunt Minty.” 

As Anne tried the name Aunt Minty had 
told her to use, she drew a long, quick 
breath. 


206 


THE FRITZ BOOK 


Aunt Minty put one arm around the little 
teacher. 

“You may be a Clover till June, dear,” 
she said. “That’s my Christmas gift to 
you.” 

Rosy cap and all, Anne hid her face on 
Aunt Minty’s comfortable shoulder. 

“I’m so happy,” she sobbed. 

“Well, I wouldn’t cry about being hap- 
py,” cried Johnny, greatly upset. 

“Oh Aunt Minty,” cried Effie getting 
hold of Aunt Minty’s free hand, and reach- 
ing for Anne’s. “There are three of us now, 
so we are your three-leaf clover, aren’t we? 
One, two, three, Miss Anne, Johnny, and 
me!” 

Every one laughed at Effie’s happy little 
discovery, even Miss Anne through her 
tears. The three Clovers hugged Aunt 
Minty. Fritz felt left out. He went to 
his Christmas stocking, which lay on the 
207 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


floor. He nosed it and poked it about. 
Finally, out of it he brought the pink baby- 
shoe. Proudly, he brought this to Aunt 
Minty and dropped it in her lap. 

“He’s giving you a Christmas present,” 
laughed Effie. 

“I wish he’d bring me the baby that be- 
longs in it,” said Aunt Minty. 

Perhaps nowhere on this great holly- 
trimmed, candle-lighted earth, was there a 
merrier Christmas than at Clover Patch. 
It takes love and good will to make really 
happy Christmases, you know. And the 
old house just brimmed over with these 
beautiful Christmas gifts. 

About noon, little snowflakes began to tap 
lightly against the windows. Faster and 
faster they came. Effie said the snowflakes 
on earth were giving a Christmas party and 
asking all those in the clouds to come. 

208 


THE FRITZ BOOK 

Next morning, the beautiful white merry- 
making was still going on. The wind came, 
too, and chased the snowflakes in great white 
crowds before him. 

The next two days were the stormiest even 
Aunt Minty could remember. They were 
days when Jake had to come from the farm- 
house to Clover Patch on snowshoes, when 
shoveling paths was of little use, when some- 
one was busy most of time keeping fires 
blazing. But to little Miss Anne they were 
the happiest days she had known in a long, 
long time. 

She told the children quaint English folk 
stories and showed them how to play Eng- 
lish games with delightful dances in them. 
She found the old piano, shut up in one 
corner of the living-room. No one had 
dreamed what gay little tunes were hidden 
away in its heart till her fingers on the keys 
209 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


set them free. And in all the songs and 
games and dances, Fritz took part. Of 
course, he made up his own dance-steps. 
And his voice wasn’t very musical when he 
tried to sing, but no one minded. 

On the evening of the third day of the * 
storm, Effie discovered one star looking 
down in surprise at Clover Patch almost 
buried in snowdrifts. The wind went to 
sleep. The snowflakes, missing their play- 
fellows, fell more and more slowly. In the 
living room the great fire blazed out. Its 
warmth and color and fragrance and cheery 
crackle drew the Clover Bunch about it. 

Fritz climbed into Miss Anne’s lap and 
cuddled down to sleep, the baby-shoe in his 
mouth. 

“Where do you suppose he found it?” 
Effie asked for the dozenth time, at least. 

“Some dear little baby wore it,” said Anne 
210 


THE FRITZ BOOK 

dreamily. She drew the shoe carefully 
away from Fritz, and held it gently in her 
hand. “I can see just how the little foot 
looked inside it, can’t you?” 

“If Fritz only could talk,” said Effie, 
“and tell us all about it.” 

Suddenly, into Anne’s head came a big 
new thought. 

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” she cried. 
“Let’s make ourselves into a detective force 
to find out about Fritz — where he came 
from to begin with — where he goes to when 
he runs away — everything we can. What 
have we to begin with — clues, you know?” 

After all these new words had been fully 
explained to Effie and Johnny, they were 
wild to begin it at once. 

“The Clover Detective Force — C. D. F.,” 
said Effie slowly. “It sounds very big and 
important.” 


211 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Aunt Minty promised to help look up 
clues. Anne brought from her room a little 
notebook one of the children had given her 
at Christmas. It was tied with bright red 
ribbon. On the cover she printed “The 
Fritz Book.” Inside she wrote down the 
clues, numbering each. When they were 
all in, they looked like this: 

1 Old-fashioned basket, with stout cord. 

2 New collar, marked FRITZ. 

3 Baby’s rattle with pink ribbon on handle. 

4 When Fritz came back at Christmas, he 
brought with him a pink baby-shoe, not 
much worn, except where Fritz has 
chewed it. 

Note: Wherever Fritz comes from, there 
must be a baby there. 

(signed) C. D. F. 

“That’s all, so far, isn’t it?” asked Miss 
Anne, as she finished reading her clues to 
the other members of the Clover Detective 
Force. 


212 


THE FRITZ BOOK 


“There’s the girl on the wheel,” said 
Johnny. 

“What girl?” cried Anne. “You haven’t 
told me about her, Johnny.” 

“That was Johnny’s dream,” said Aunt 
Minty. “He climbed out on the roof in 
his sleep — ” 

“Thanksgiving night at Uncle Gem’s,” 
said Johnny, too excited to know that he 
was interrupting. “But I wasn’t asleep, 
Aunt Minty, so how could it be a dream? 
There was a real live girl, all red, riding by 
on a wheel, and she had Fritz in a basket in 
front of her. Put it down, please, Miss 
Anne.” 

Smiling at Aunt Minty, Anne added to 
the -clues in The Fritz Book: 

5 Girl in red on bicycle ; basket in front of 
her with Fritz inside. Seen by John 
Thomas Clover on Thanksgiving night 
at Uncle Gem Clover’s farm. 

213 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“And I do think, Miss Anne,” said 
Johnny after this was all written, “there 
ought to be something about Santa Claus 
bringing him back to me.” 

Everyone but Johnny laughed now. 
But Miss Anne wrote a sixth clue in the 
little book: 

6 Fritz was brought back at Christmas by 
Santa Claus, with Christmas ribbon on 
his collar. 

She’d just finished writing this, when the 
telephone bell over the desk rang sharply. 

The telephone was so new a thing to them 
all that every one wanted to answer. But 
Effie was finally allowed to. 

A man spoke so distinctly that Aunt 
Minty, Miss Anne, and Johnny all heard it. 

“Is this Miss Dolly Miller’s residence?” 
said the voice. 

Some one besides Aunt Minty, Miss Anne, 
214 


THE FRITZ BOOK 


Johnny, and Effie at the receiver, heard too. 
Fritz, asleep on his cushion in a chair below 
the phone, suddenly sat up, cocked one 
cropped ear, and listened. 

“This is Clover Patch — Miss Araminta 
Clover’s residence,” said Effie, in her best 
telephone manner. 

Perhaps the man didn’t hear. Anyway, 
he didn’t answer, or if he did, Effie didn’t 
hear. Several voices spoke in a confused 
way. A man’s voice seemed to be talking 
about a dog. “I can’t hear,” said Effie 
anxiously. Then a girl’s voice, brisk and 
clear, said, “Two days before Christmas.” 
Then it mixed itself up with other voices 
talking about the terrible storm and a lost 
Christmas package. But one more word in 
the man’s voice came over the wire and 
sounded distinctly through the room. That 
one word was “Fritz!” 

215 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Fritz stood up on his hind feet, his paws 
on the back of the chair. He quivered with 
joy from the tip of his nose, lifted toward 
the phone, to the tip of his tail. Johnny 
sprang after him, as if he feared the puppy 
would disappear utterly into the telephone 
receiver. 

“ ‘His master’s voice,’ ” Anne quoted 
laughing. 

After that one word, “Fritz!” the voice 
trailed away into distance, and was lost in 
the buzzing of the wires. And try as they 
would again and again all the evening, they 
couldn’t get connection with it or with much 
of anything. 

“The storm has crossed the wires,” ex- 
plained Aunt Minty to the eager group of 
Clovers, after she had held an unsatisfac- 
tory talk with Central. “Central doesn’t 
know who the man was, or if he really 
216 


THE FRITZ BOOK 


wanted us, or anything else about it. If he 
does, he’ll try again.” 

But although Fritz sat under the tele- 
phone waiting for the voice till he fell 
asleep, the voice didn’t call again. 

So all there was of it, so far as the Clover 
Detective Force was concerned, was another 
little entry in The Fritz Book: 

7 Man’s voice on the telephone. Asked 
for Miss Dolly Miller. Said some- 
thing about a lost dog and Fritz. Fritz 
knew the voice. 


“And here it is all set down in Anne’s 
pretty, prim schoolma’am writing,” said 
Nancy, looking at The Fritz Book. Dur- 
ing the last part of this chapter of little 
Anne’s story The Fritz Book had been 
passed quietly from one to another of the 
listening group, so that all might see the 
clues for themselves. 

217 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


It's just ten years ago,” said Effie. “See 
the date’s 1904.” 

“There hasn’t been such a storm since, 
seems to me,” said Aunt Minty, “until this 
one.” 

“Isn’t the voice over the ’phone just 
thrilling?” said Susy. 

“I’d like to make a picture of Fritz when 
he heard it,” said Roger. 

“Would you know the voice if you heard 
it again, Effie?” asked Lissy. 

“I think so,” laughed Effie. “Would 
you, Anne?” 

“I’d like to hear it this minute,” said 
Anne. 

“ Have you ever heard it again?” said 
Martha. 

All the Clover Bunch laughed at this 
until Fritz grunted sleepily. 

“But do please go on, Anne,” begged 
Marjory. 


218 


CHAPTER XIV 


AN ARMY WITH BANNERS 


w 


HERE did he go?” cried 
Johnny. 

’“When did he go?” cried 
Effie. 

“Ask him when he comes back for his 
baby-shoe,” laughed Aunt Minty. “He 
forgot it, and I don’t see how he’ll ever 
get along without it.” 

Of course the Clover Bunch was talking 
about Fritz, who had suddenly and myste- 
riously disappeared again from Clover 
Patch. 

“Well he’s stayed all through January 
and a little way into February anyway,” said 
Effie. 

“While he’s gone, let’s make up stories 
about where he is,” said Anne. 

219 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“Let’s guess what he’ll bring when he 
comes back next time,” said Effie. 

“Maybe, he won’t come,” said Johnny 
dismally. 

It was still dark, next morning, when 
Johnny dressed and stumbled down stairs 
and out-of-doors into the soft grayness of 
what wasn’t morning and what wasn’t night 
Everything was still and hushed as if the 
earth was standing on tiptoe waiting for 
something wonderful to happen. Johnny 
knew that the something wonderful was the 
coming of the sun. He stopped long 
enough to gaze at the long bright line of 
gold over the hills in the east, which looked 
like its path. But his head was so full of a 
big thought that he had found in it when 
he woke up, that he couldn’t watch long 
even so wonderful a thing as a winter sun- 
rise. 


220 


AN ARMY WITH BANNERS 

A few days before, on the top of a hill 
much higher than Clover Patch, Johnny 
and Fritz had made a fine snow-house. 
They had driven up this hill with Jake, 
Fritz sitting in the bottom of the sleigh. 
Jake had stopped to talk with a farmer 
about some timber in the woods near by. 
Both men had gone to look the trees over. 
It had taken some time. And while they 
were gone, Johnny and Fritz had made the 
snow-house. 

“ ’Tisn’t far as the crow flies/’ Jake had 
said as they drove home awhile later. 
Johnny had asked what this meant. Jake 
had explained that crows fly across lots and 
over woods instead of going round by roads, 
and so save many miles and much time. 

Johnny was quite sure that Fritz had 
gone back to the snow-house. He wanted 
to go, himself, and had meant to, Saturday. 

221 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


Not being a school-boy, Fritz hadn’t waited 
for Saturday. Now Johnny was going to 
look for him. To save time and get back 
before breakfast, Johnny was going “as the 
crow flies.” That is, he went on his snow- 
shoes, “across lots.” 

Back at Clover Patch, a little later, there 
was great surprise. When the breakfast 
bell didn’t bring Johnny to the table Effie 
ran to look for him. She came running 
back, declaring there wasn’t a sign of him 
anywhere in his room. Miss Anne hurried 
upstairs to look in the other rooms. Quick 
as she was, she found Aunt Minty there 
before her. Both called and looked. Aunt 
Minty even cast a quick glance into the 
maple outside the window. But there was 
no boy there — not even a boy’s trousers. 
Only a clear winter sky showed behind 
tossing bare branches. 

222 


AN ARMY WITH BANNERS 

“Maybe he’s gone to school early,” said 
Miss Anne, as they went back to the break- 
fast-table. “He helps me keep the room 
neat. Maybe he’s doing something to sur- 
prise me.” 

“Maybe he’s gone to the post-office to 
mail valentines,” said Effie. “He might 
not want us to know.” 

Soon after breakfast Aunt Minty went 
to telephone Mrs. Jake. Johnny wasn’t 
there. Jake had gone to Morrisville and 
wouldn’t be back till noon. But Johnny 
hadn’t gone with him. Aunt Minty phoned 
the postoffice. No one had seen Johnny. 

Anne went to school early. Effie stood 
in the window and watched to catch the 
first glimpse of Johnny coming back. She 
was too worried to go to school. In a few 
minutes a little boy came from Anne to say 
that Johnny hadn’t been at the schoolhouse. 

223 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


All the morning Aunt Minty and Effie 
waited and watched and wondered. To- 
ward noon, when there was still no sign of 
Johnny, Effie slipped out of the house. She 
ran to the road. And there, on the same 
side of the road as Clover Patch, itself, 
away across the broad dazzling Clover mea- 
dow, was a long straggling line of snow- 
shoe tracks. 

“He’s gone snowshoeing, Aunt Minty,” 
cried Effie, a minute later, bursting into 
the kitchen. “I found his tracks and his 
snowshoes are gone from their nail in the 
shed.” 

“If he isn’t back by noon, and Jake isn’t,” 
said Aunt Minty, “I shall go to look for him 
myself.” 

Once, when she was trying to get Jake in 
Morrisville, a girl’s voice, brisk and clear, 
came over the wire. 


224 


AN ARMY WITH BANNERS 


“You have the wrong number,” it said. 
“This is Dolly Miller. I’ll ring off.” 

Aunt Minty didn’t think anything about 
the name then. She was used to getting 
wrong numbers on this country line. But 
afterward she remembered it was the same 
name they had heard over the wire the night 
after the big storm. 

Just about ten o’clock, somehow or other, 
Johnny stumbled across that little snow-hut 
high in the hills. He was almost too tired 
to feel disappointed that Fritz wasn’t there. 
He was too bewildered and blinded by the 
sunshine on the snow to notice the wonderful 
white country which sparkled below him. 
He gave one homesick look toward the 
roofs of Clover Patch, far far away — a bit 
of red between the blue of sky and white of 
earth. 

Then he stumbled into the little hut. 

225 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Luckily it wasn’t a very cold day. And in- 
side the hut it was really quite warm. 
Johnny went to sleep almost at once and 
slept until the noon whistles from Morris- 
ville sounded loud and clear across the still- 
ness. 

At first he couldn’t remember who he 
was to say nothing of where he was. He 
went to the opening of the hut which he 
and Fritz had called the door. He rubbed 
his eyes and stared out across the broad 
snowfields. He rubbed them again and 
stared again. He shaded them from the 
glare of the sun. What had so changed the 
landscape? 

The sparkling stretch of pasture and 
meadow-land was the same unbroken white, 
except for a brown line here and there that 

« 

marked a fence. But on the slope of the 
opposite hills, an army marched, halted, 
226 


AN ARMY WITH BANNERS 

marched again. It was a small army, but 
large enough to startle a boy who had never 
seen any but a picture-book army. The 
men stood stiff and straight. Rifles flashed 
in the sun. There was a flag — the same 
glorious red, white and blue that Johnny 
had carried only day before yesterday when 
he had led a Lincoln Day march at school. 

Johnny stood spellbound. Even as he 
watched, over the crest of the hill, the army 
with banners disappeared. Only the snow- 
clad hills were left behind. 

Johnny rubbed his eyes again. The army 
didn’t come back. He waited awhile, 
hoping it would. But there was only sky 
and snow and sun. Tired and hungry and 
homesick, he started back toward the friend- 
ly red roofs of Clover Patch. 

“I came straight as a crow flies,” he ex- 
claimed sometime later, bobbing up in the 
227 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


driveway, just as Aunt Minty drove the old 
horse out of the yard. 

“John Thomas Clover,” she cried, “where 
did you come from?”’ Then she saw how 
Johnny’s lips quivered, how big and tired 
his eyes were, and how his whole little body 
lagged with weariness. The next minute 
she was out of the sleigh and her arms were 
around him. 

And to the utter upset of John Thomas 
Clover, Aunt Minty cried. 

“Oh Johnny,” she said again , “where 
have you been?” 

“Just to my snow-house,” said Johnny. 
“I went to look for Fritz. But he wasn’t 
there. Oh Aunt Minty, were you worried? 
I would have told you where I was going 
only you weren’t up yet. And I expected 
to be right back anyway. Jake said crows 
went fast, and I supposed I could. I didn’t 
228 


AN ARMY WITH BANNERS 

mean to make you cry — honest, Aunt Minty, 
I didn’t.” 

Johnny was near crying himself. 

“I’m not fit to be a mother to a boy, I 
guess,” said Aunt Minty. “But I can’t 
scold you this time — and that’s all there is 
to it.” 

Aunt Minty led the old horse back to the 
barn. A very sober Johnny helped unhar- 
ness. Then they went into the kitchen. 

“Send Jake over just as soon as he comes, 
please,” Effie’s anxious voice was saying 
into the phone receiver. 

“Johnny’s come,” cried Aunt Minty. 
“He’s all right, only I guess he wants some 
dinner.” 

She sank down heavily in a chair, pulling 
off her gloves. But the next instant she 
sprang up again. 


229 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“Mercy,” she cried. “What is in this 
chair?” 

Out of the chair rolled a sleepy puppy. 
At this abrupt ending to his nap, he 
stretched, turned around two or three times, 
and curled up for another nap on Aunt 
Minty’s feet. 

“He’s just come,” cried Effie, as she hung 
up the telephone receiver. “He’s all tired 
out — he must have walked miles. And he 
brought this.” 

Aunt Minty and Effie gazed wonderingly 
at a small photograph in Effie’s hand. It 
was a kodak picture mounted on a piece of 
cardboard. The corners were chewed. 
But the likeness, itself, wasn’t hurt. And 
softly colored, it looked up at Aunt Minty 
— the picture of a round, rosy baby with 
laughing eyes and a tangle of yellow curls. 

“Bless the baby,” cried Aunt Minty. 

230 


AN ARMY WITH BANNERS 


“Wouldn’t I like to get my arms round 
him this minute!” 

“And it’s Valentine’s Day,” cried Effie. 
“So I shall just call him our Valentine 
baby. He must go down in the Fritz Book 
just as soon as Miss Anne gets home. Isn’t 
he a splendid clue, Aunt Minty?” 

“Where did you get him, Fritzie?” said 
Aunt Minty. 

But Fritz was sound asleep again. 

They were all at supper that night — the 
happiest kind of a Clover Bunch — when 
Johnny suddenly laid down his fork. 

“I saw an army to-day,” he announced. 

“An army?” cried the others. 

Johnny nodded. 

“I went to sleep in my snow-house up at 
the top of the hill,” he explained, “and 
when I woke up, there was a real army 
over on the hills the other side of this valley. 

231 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


There was a flag too,” he added, going 
back to his supper. 

Anne smiled at Aunt Minty and Aunt 
Minty smiled back at Anne. 

“What became of them?” asked Eflie 
greatly excited. 

“Oh, they just marched down the hill 
and up again,” said Johnny. 

“Something like the King of France and 
his ten thousand men,” said Anne. 

“But I did see them, honest, Miss Anne,” 
said Johnny. 

“Another dream, son,” said Aunt Minty. 


“How could he see a real army like that?” 
cried Martha, almost before little Anne had 
stopped reading the chapter. 

“I can guess what it was,” said Joe. 

“I can guess who the Valentine baby 
was,” said Betty. She smiled up at Anne 
232 


AN ARMY WITH BANNERS 

from the Fritz Book, where the little old 
picture was fastened with the clues. 

“Don’t you dare,” warned little Anne. 
“Please don’t guess aloud, Betty,” said 
Marjory at the same minute. “I don’t 
want to know till the story tells us. But it 
does seem as if I can’t wait. Do please 
every one keep still so Anne can go on 
reading.” 


233 


CHAPTER XV 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 

S PRING came up the hills early that 
year. Some warm days in March 
honeycombed the snow, set the brook 
sparkling through the ice, and started the 
sap in the maples. 

One day a letter came from Uncle Gem 
asking to borrow Johnny through sugaring. 

“Lucky that vacation and sugaring come 
together for once, isn’t it, son?” said Aunt 
Minty smiling across the table at Johnny’s 
eager face. 

“May I really go?” cried Johnny. 

“Yes,” said Aunt Minty. “Gem’s letter 
crossed mine to him, asking if he couldn’t 
use an extra pair of hands to help him sugar 

234 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 


off. I’m going away, myself, on important 
business,” Aunt Minty smiled most de- 
lightfully, but she didn’t say what the busi- 
ness was. “Think you and Effie can man- 
age Clover Patch, Anne? Mr. and Mrs. 
Jake will help, of course.” 

“We’ll do our very best, Aunt Minty,” 
said Anne. 

Effie nodded. “But it will be dreadfully 
big and empty here without you and Johnny, 
Aunt Minty,” she said. 

The day Uncle Gem came for Johnny, he 
took Aunt Minty and her trunk to Morris- 
ville where she took the train to the city. 
Clover Patch was rather big for two little 
people, like Anne and Effie. But Jake 
looked in often during the day. And every 
night, Mrs. Jake came. Then Fritz, who 
had been gone two weeks, arrived from 
somewhere, and helped out a little. But he 
235 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


didn’t bring any new clues for the Fritz 
Book. 

“We’ve eight now,” said Effie one night 
— she and Anne were having supper on a 
little table near the window, which didn’t 
seem so lonesome as the big empty one — 
“if Johnny’s red bicycle girl really counts. 
He’s sure he’s going to see her again at 
Uncle Gem’s. Do you suppose he will?” 

“I don’t believe so,” said Anne absently. 

Since Anne had lived at Clover Patch, 
she had become round and rosy. But to- 
night, she looked tired, Effie thought. Her 
eyes were sorry, and her voice matched 
them. Effie was just ready to ask about it, 
when Fritz caught the Fritz Book out of her 
hand. He ran a little way from her, and 
danced about with it in his mouth, just spoil- 
ing for a frolic. Effie started after him, 
which was just what he wanted. Away he 
236 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 

dashed through dining-room and living- 
room, Effie close behind. He found an 
open door and away he went upstairs. 
Effie stumbled along, calling Anne to come, 
too. At last, through the upper hall, came 
the three into Aunt Minty’s room. Here 
Fritz landed in the exact middle of the big 
white bed. He hid the book under the 
pillow and mounted guard over it. 

Effie rescued it. 

“It isn’t hurt, except for some marks of 
his teeth, just as if he’d printed on it This 
is my book!’ ” she said. “Miss Anne what- 
ever is the matter with you? You don’t 
act a bit like yourself.” 

“Effie!” cried Anne. She sank down in 
Aunt Minty’s chair near the window. “I’m 
just ashamed to let you know what a mean 
selfish person I am. But I am. And I 
don’t know what to do about it.” 

237 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“Indeed you’re not selfish,” said Effie 
promptly. “You couldn’t be — not if you 
sat down and tried.” 

She came across the room. Fritz jumped 
off the bed and came, too. Both sat down 
on the floor as close to Anne as they could 
get. . 

“Listen, Effie,” cried Anne, “and you’ll 
see for yourself. Maybe you don’t know 
what Aunt Minty has gone to the city for. 
But I do. She’s gone to find a baby to 
adopt. I heard her tell Mrs. Jake one day 
that she couldn’t live much longer without 
one in the house. She’s told me, too, that 
since you and Johnny are so big and in 
school, she can’t bear to look into the little 
room you used to have — that little room 
over there, isn’t it?” 

Effie nodded. 

“Well, she’s going to take a baby from a 

238 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 

home, or somewhere — I don’t know where 
— but she’s going to take one!” 

“But aren’t you glad, Miss Anne?” cried 
Effie. “The day Fritz came in the basket, 
you know, we all hoped it would be a baby. 
I think ’twill be lovely.” 

“Of course you do,” said Anne. “And 
that’s what I ought to think and would 
think, if I wasn’t so mean and selfish. But 
— you see, Effie — when the new baby comes, 
I’ll have to go. Aunt Minty won’t keep 
me and take a baby, too. You know she 
won’t, Effie.” 

“Maybe she would,” said Effie. 

“I wouldn’t expect her to,” said Anne. 
“But I’ve been so happy here. And every 
day, I’ve thought ‘maybe when June comes, 
Aunt Minty will just let me stay.’ Of 
course, ’twas silly — a great girl like me. 
But you can’t think how dreadful it will 
239 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


be not to have any home again. It’s so 
lovely to be a Clover. And after June, I 
don’t know what I’ll be.” 

Little Anne was so distressed, Effie and 
Fritz both did their best to comfort her. 

“You’re going to stay, Miss Anne,” Effie 
said. “I’m just about sure Aunt Minty 
won’t let you go. You’re better than all 
the babies in all the homes in the city. 

By and by they went down-stairs. Anne 
looked over school papers. Effie and Fritz 
both went to sleep before the fire. 

Effie woke with a start. Miss Anne was 
beside her, greatly excited. 

“I can’t go on feeling so cross about it,” 
she said. “I shall just hate that new baby. 
And there’s only one thing to do when you 
feel so hateful toward anyone, father used 
to say. Just go to work quick, and do the 
very nicest, hardest-to-do thing you can for 
240 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 

him. So I’ve thought it all out. I’m go- 
ing to fix up the little room that was yours 
and Johnny’s for the new baby. I’ve been 
up to look at it. The rug is just right — 
all pink and green. I’ll re-paint the room 
and bring down the baby furniture from the 
attic. I’ll make most everything pink, be- 
cause pink is prettier than anything else for 
a boy. And Aunt Minty will take a boy. 
She told me she thought Johnny needed a 
brother.” 

“Oh — and prettier for a Clover, too,” 
cried Effie. “Let’s make it just as clovery as 
we can. I always wear pink or green, 
’cause I’m a Clover, Miss Anne.” 

“Don’t,” cried Anne sharply. “Please 
don’t talk — yet — about being a Clover. I 
want to forget I’m not really one. Oh 
dear, I feel all cross again. I’ll have to 
plan something else. He’ll need a little 
241 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


go-cart. I’ll buy that old one of the Cole’s. 
Their baby is too big for it. And they 
want to sell it.” 

“It will be lovely, Miss Anne,” said Effie. 
“There’s some pretty stuff in the attic with 
clover-blooms in it — Aunt Minty gave it 
to me. Couldn’t we use that somewhere?” 

“I’ll cover the little rocking chair with 
it,” said Anne. “Oh I wish it was morning, 
so I could begin!” 

The very night that Anne and Effie were 
planning the Clover room for the new baby, 
a wonderful thing happened to Johnny. 

They’d had a big run of sap every day 
for a week. They’d all helped gather it 
and boil it down. They’d all had all they 
could eat waxed. They’d sugared off ever 
so many times. They’d made little cakes, 
round, crescent, diamond, and heart shaped. 
Johnny was sure he’d never had so many 
242 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 


good times in all his life before. He’d 
decided that of all times of year — Fourth 
of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas even — 
there was none quite so delightful as “sugar- 
ing.” He’d tried to make Uncle Gem 
promise to let him help every single year. 
And he’d talked gravely with Uncle Gem 
of saving all his money and buying the 
“sugar bush” next to Uncle Gem’s. 

That day they’d taken pounds and pounds 
of sugar in big and little cakes to the con- 
tractor in Morrisville. 

Little Gem and little Minty were having 
a birthday. Uncle Gem was letting them 
celebrate in their own way. After a long 
talk, they decided the very nicest thing to 
do would be to invite Johnny to dinner at 
one of the big hotels in town. It would 
be a new sort of birthday party. Then, 
as a still greater treat, at Uncle Gem’s sug- 
243 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


gestion, they took Johnny to a wonderful 
motion picture house that had just been 
opened. 

Johnny had wanted to go ever since he 
had known there were such things as mov- 
ing pictures. And to-night, the pictures 
seemed made for him. There was one set 
he never forgot. 

They told a simple story of a little boy, 
a little girl, a baby, and a wonderful dog. 
The children themselves were wonderful 
actors. And they did seem to have such 
good times with the dog. The dog loved 
all of them, but the baby was her special 
charge. Wherever that baby went, the dog 
went along. She watched him when he 
slept. She helped him walk, walking slow- 
ly along by his side, the baby’s hand slipped 
through her collar. 

Often the baby fell down. Then the dog 
244 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 

waited patiently till he got up again. She 
played games with him. She would catch 
the ball he tried to throw. She would roll 
it carefully back to him, her tail wagging 
proudly, when he grasped it in his fat little 
hands. By and by, in the story, all three 
children went out to play in the woods. 

The dog for some reason was shut up in 
the house so that she could not follow them. 
While the older children played, the baby 
wandered away, further and further up the 
mountain. He fell over a steep cliff. 
Meanwhile, the dog had broken loose and 
tracked the children to the woods. 

Not finding the baby, she set out at once 
to hunt him up. She found the spot where 
the baby had fallen and bounded after him. 
Step by step, up a safe zig-zag path, the 
dog coaxed the baby back up the cliff. 
When, at the top, tired out, the little thing 
245 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


fell down and couldn’t be coaxed any fur- 
ther, the dog ran to the children. By this 
time, they had missed the baby and were 
hunting wildly for him. The dog begged 
them to go with her. They followed all 
the way to the cliff and found the baby 
unhurt and sound asleep. The children, 
themselves, were no happier than the dog. 
She jumped wildly about and you could 
almost hear her bark. 

It was all so real that when the dog was 
shown all by herself on the screen, wagging 
her tail in a friendly way at the delighted 
audience, Johnny couldn’t believe she wasn’t 
really there. As they went out of the 
building he kept looking back. On the 
street, he caught at Uncle Gem’s hand. 

“Couldn’t we just go back and see the dog 
a minute?” he said. 

Uncle Gem laughed. But on the way 
246 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 

home he told Johnny and Gem and Minty 
about how the wonderful pictures are made. 

“But could a dog really do all those 
things, Daddy?” cried little Minty. 

“A dog could and did,” said Uncle Ben. 
“There’s a company of moving picture 
people somewhere near Morrisville now. 
They’re taking pictures out in the country. 
Our hills and mountains make wonderful 
backgrounds. Someday, maybe, we’ll go 
and see them.” 

“Maybe I won’t buy the sugar bush, 
Uncle Gem,” said Johnny. “Maybe I’ll go 
into the moving picture business. I think 
Fritz could be taught tricks. I’m going 
to try when I get home again — that is, if 
he’s there then. He did look a little like 
that moving picture dog.” 

“Same breed,” said Uncle Gem. “Such 
dogs make fine trick-dogs usually. And 
247 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


Fritz is a smart puppy if only he’d stay 
home long enough to learn anything. 
That breed of dogs loves children. Think 
how the dog in the pictures loved that baby.” 

“It was a really truly baby, mother,” said 
Minty, as the children told Aunt Kate all 
about the wonderful birthday treat. “Just 
as real as our own baby is.” 

“And it was a really truly dog, too, Aunt 
Kate,” added Johnny. 


“Did you really think that movie-dog was 
right there somewhere, John?” asked Mar- 
tha. 

John laughed. 

“I think I really did,” he said. “You 
see, there weren’t movies everywhere then. 
Folks didn’t know so much about them, or 
how they were made.” 

248 


AUNT MINTY GOES AWAY 

“Fd like to see some made ” said Martha, 
“wouldn’t you, Martin?” 

Martin nodded. 

“I’m as excited as Marjory,” laughed 
Betty. “I can’t wait for the rest of the 
story. Go on, Anne, if you aren’t tired.” 


249 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE BICYCLE GIRL 

W HILE all these things were 
happening to the Clover Bunch, 
things were happening out-of- 
doors, too. The earth was wearing a green 
April gown. Some days, to be sure, she 
slipped on over it a white snow-flake apron. 
But when she took it off, there was the same 
wonderful gown, a little greener than be- 
fore. The brook sparkled across her bosom 
like a silver chain. And in her great kind 
heart there were all sorts of lovely thoughts 
ready to spring out in flowers. 

School began and Johnny came back to 
Clover Patch. But still Aunt Minty stayed 
in the city. And still her letters said, “I 
250 


THE BICYCLE GIRL 


haven’t yet done what I came to do. I mean 
to stay till I do.” 

“She can’t find just the baby she wants,” 
Anne whispered to Effie, after reading one 
of these letters aloud. It was a bright Sat- 
urday morning — so warm and clear that 
they were all out in the garden. Jake was 
busy there, and Johnny had a hoe. Little 
green clumps showed where daffodils were 
coming. Crocuses lifted gold and laven- 
der cups along the borders of the beds. 
You could almost smell hyacinths. 

The Clover room for the new baby was 
all ready. Every time Anne had what she 
called a “cross spell,” about leaving Clover 
Patch, she added something to it. She 
pounded some of her bad feeling away one 
day on the rug. Another day, she painted 
furiously, and made everything white and 
shining. Once, she covered the little chair 
251 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


with clover-blossom chintz. One night, 
when she felt especially unpleasant, she 
walked all the way to Morrisville and 
bought stuff for curtains — white sprinkled 
with clover blossoms. She worked half the 
night making these. She bought the Cole’s 
go-cart, too. It was all ready for the new 
baby. Now, she was making a cushion for 
it. She had dropped her work to read Aunt 
Minty’s letter. 

When she had finished the letter, she be- 
gan hunting through her work-basket for 
something. Her hurrying fingers made a 
tangle of everything there. 

Effie watched for a minute. “What are 
you doing, Anne?” she cried. 

“I’m beginning to feel cross again,” Anne 
said. “Think of leaving Clover Patch just 
when it’s growing so lovely — lovelier every 
day. Think what it will be in June. I’m 
252 


THE BICYCLE GIRL 

going to embroider a ‘C’ on my cushion.” 
As she spoke, she traced the letter on the 
cloth. 

“For whatever the baby’s first name 
may be, his last name will be Clover.” She 
snipped off a length of rosy floss and 
threaded her needle with a jerk. “This is 
really the last thing I can think of to do for 
him,” she added. 

Whatever they said about the new baby, 
Eflie and Anne said in whispers, or when 
Johnny wasn’t around. They decided that 
the surprise Aunt Minty had planned for 
them all should really be one to Johnny. 
So, out of school, Johnny spent his time 
looking for Fritz, never dreaming of the 
things the girls were doing. Fritz had run 
away again, just the* day before Johnny had 
come home. 

“I want him to do tricks like the moving- 

253 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


picture dog,” Johnny said over and over. 
Of course, he’d told Anne and Effie all 
about the wonderful dog and baby he’d 
seen in Morrisville. 

Just now Johnny was hoeing away with 
all his might. Effie gave Anne a comfort- 
ing little pat, and ran away to ask Jake 
where would be the best place to sow her 
seeds. Anne went on with her “C”. After 
a few stitches she didn’t jerk the thread. 
The pucker went out of her forehead. She 
looked off toward the hazy blue hills. 
Then she dropped her work and drew a 
deep breath of joy at all the beauty and 
growth everywhere about her. 

“Mignonette here, and bachelor buttons 
here?” Effie was asking anxiously. 

Anne smiled, then suddenly she sprang to 
her feet. 

“Look, look, look!” she cried to the others. 

254 


THE BICYCLE GIRL 


“Down the hill!” For of course, at her ex- 
cited words, Effie and Johnny had both 
looked straight at her standing there, wav- 
ing a skein of rosy embroidery floss. 

At her last words, they turned like the 
little wooden figures in toy-shops, that move 
on springs, and gazed down the hill toward 
Morrisville. There, coming as rapidly as 
it could, was a bicycle. Little flashes of 
red, as it whizzed along, turned out to be 
a girl wearing a red sweater and a red cap. 
In front of the girl something unusual about 
the wheel proved to be a small, high, round 
basket. 

Afterwards, the three Clovers agreed 
that the reason they didn’t dash straight 
down the driveway to the road to meet and 
stop that flying bicycle girl was that they 
were so perfectly sure she would turn into 
Clover Patch it didn’t seem necessary. 

255 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


What could Johnny’s red girl on a wheel be 
doing on that road unless she had heard 
about Fritz and was coming after him? 
Not one of them thought she might skim 
straight past Clover Patch, never once 
glancing at its roofs and broad acres. But 
that was exactly what she did — the crimson 
of her sweater flashing back a sort of fare- 
well through the budded lilacs. 

As she whizzed along past Clover 
Patch, her bell buzzing shrilly, because of 
the turn just ahead, the three Clovers found 
their tongues and their legs. Screaming 
and running, they flew to the road. If it 
had kept on going, the wheel would have 
been out of sight before they reached the 
edge of the big yard. But it had stopped 
just at the top of the hill, so they could see 
it clearly against the blue sky. 

The girl in red was on the ground. 

256 


THE BICYCLE GIRL 


Jumping wildly about her, and barking so 
she couldn’t possibly hear anything else, was 
Fritz. Perhaps he had been on his way 
back to Clover Patch. If so, at sight of 
the girl, he had changed his puppy mind. 
He knew her, and gave her his warmest 
greeting. And she knew him. She gath- 
ered him, dust and all, up into her arms. 
She cradled him, barking and kicking, just 
like a baby for a brief minute. Then she 
dropped him into the basket on the front 
of her wheel. It was so high and small he 
couldn’t get out. Still barking, he whizzed 
away with the girl and the wheel over the 
brow of the hill. 

“Well, that’s the end of my dog,” said 
Johnny gloomily. “She’s got him, and I 
suppose she’s going to keep him.” 

“I suppose he is hers — really,” said Effie 
gently. 


257 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“ But you really did see her, Johnny-boy,” 
said Anne. She slipped an arm around 
Johnny’s disconsolate little figure. “It 
wasn’t a dream.” 

“I always knew that wasn’t no — wasn’t 
any — dream, Miss Anne,” said Johnny. “I 
knew I saw her.” 

The three Clovers were coming slowly 
back the road toward Clover Patch. Anne 
still held a needle threaded with rosy floss. 
Effie had a paper of bachelor-button seed, 
some of which sifted to the road-side. 
Johnny dragged his hoe. 

It was Effie who first saw the station- 
wagon from Morrisville coming up the hill 
toward them. 

“Aunt Minty’s come!” she cried. And 
away she flew down the hill, Johnny and 
Anne close behind. A minute or two later 
Anne felt Aunt Minty’s arms around her. 

258 


THE BICYCLE GIRL 

“Oh, but I’m glad to get home,” she 
cried. “After I wrote that last letter, I 
was so homesick, I packed right up and 
came.” ' 

“She hasn’t brought any baby,” whis- 
pered Effie hurriedly to Anne, as the last 
bundle came out of the wagon. 

“Perhaps she couldn’t find just the one 
she wanted,” whispered Anne, just as John- 
ny’s excited voice broke in. 

“It was the red bicycle girl, Aunt Minty. 
She just went by here and she has Fritz. 
So I did see her that time at Uncle Gem’s 
after all,” he added triumphantly. 

“We all saw her just now,” said Anne. 
She was helping Aunt Minty carry her 
bundles into the house. Once inside, she 
bustled about helping take off and put away 
wraps. 

There was so much talk all that day about 
259 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Fritz and the bicycle girl, and what this 
meant and what that meant and what the 
other meant, and what would happen next, 
that other things were crowded out. Anne 
wrote down all about the red bicycle girl in 
the Fritz Book. And the Clover Detective 
Force decided then and there to try harder 
than ever to find out whether or not Fritz 
belonged to her. 

But that night, after Anne had 
gone to her room, and Effie and Johnny 
were asleep, and Aunt Minty had gone to 
her room, there came a soft knock on her 
door. 

“Come in,” said Aunt Minty. She knew 
it was a Clover knock. 

Anne came in. She wore the soft, new, 
rose-colored kimono that Aunt Minty had 
brought her from the city. In one hand was 
a key. 


260 


THE BICYCLE GIRL 


“Here is the key to the little room,” she 
said. “I kept it so Johnny wouldn’t get in. 
And I just remembered to bring it to you.” 

“I hadn’t noticed it was locked, Anne,” 
said Aunt Minty. “But why on earth 
should it be?” 

“It’s all ready, Aunt Minty, for the new 
baby — when you find him,” said Anne 
slowly. 

“The new baby?” cried Aunt Minty. 

Meanwhile, Anne had unlocked the door 
of the little room. 

“Come and see, Aunt Minty,” she said 
softly. 

Aunt Minty brought the lamp and went 
past Anne into the little room. There it 
was, dainty and fresh, the curtains swaying 
lightly in the night breeze, the little bed 
turned down all ready, the cushioned chair 
waiting. 


261 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“How pretty,” cried Aunt Minty, “did 
you do it, Anne?” 

“Effie and I,” said Anne. “For the baby 
you went to get.” 

Then sitting on the edge of the new baby’s 
bed, Anne told Aunt Minty she’d known all 
the time what her trip to the city had been 
for — how she just couldn’t help knowing — 
and how she and Effie had talked and 
planned and made everything ready. She 
didn’t say anything about her own part — 
how she dreaded to leave Clover Patch. 

Aunt Minty patted Anne’s back gently. 

“I shall love to come into this little room,” 
she said, “and think over my Clovers when 
they were babies — and of how you did it 
all for me and a new baby. I do love 
babies, little Anne. But I didn’t go to the 
city to adopt one. You were mistaken al- 
262 


THE BICYCLE GIRL 


together about that. My business there had 
nothing to do with babies.” 

Somehow, Anne wasn’t all sorry and she 
wasn’t all glad. She reached up for Aunt 
Minty’s kiss. 

“Dear Aunt Minty,” was all she could 
say. 

“Run away to bed, now,” said Aunt 
Minty. She kissed her again. And some- 
how, down deep in her heart somewhere, 
Anne knew that Aunt Minty understood 
all she hadn’t said. 

Anne slipped away. Aunt Minty put out 
the light. 

“Aunt Minty,” came Anne’s voice again 
at the open door. It was half wistful, half 
gay. 

“What shall we do with the Cole baby’s 
old go-cart?” she cried. “It’s all made 
over new and it’s ready down in the back 
263 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


entry. It has a new pillow. And there’s 
a rosy ‘C’ on it for the new Clover baby.” 


When this chapter was finished, Aunt 
Minty smiled her beamiest smile at little 
Anne.* Little Anne smiled back in her 
happiest fashion. It was easy to be seen 
that these two understood each other. 

“I know just how you felt about leaving 
Clover Patch,” said Lissy. “Why, I could- 
n’t leave the Penny Bank for good and all. 
I just couldn’t. It makes me homesick this 
minute to think of it.” 

“Don’t think about it then, Lissy,” said 
Roger. 

“And I know just how you felt about the 
babies, Aunt Minty,” cried Nancy Spindle. 
It isn’t like living at all unless there are 
babies around.” 


264 


CHAPTER XVII 


AN INDIAN VILLAGE 

O N the morning of Arbor Day, 
school closed early. Aunt Minty 
packed a big basket with all 
sorts of good things to eat. Wtih it, the 
Clover Bunch all crowded into the old 
buggy, and drove by roundabout, woodsy 
roads to an old orchard up in the hills. 

“Does this big blossomy place belong to 
you, too, Aunt Minty?” cried Anne. She 
sank down in the grass and looked up into 
the roof of rosy blossoms thick with bees 
over her head. 

“I lived here when I was a little girl,” 
said Aunt Minty. “That’s why it looks so 
265 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


good to me, I suppose. The old house stood 
over there under that big apple-tree.’’ 

“I never saw so beautiful a place any- 
where outside of England,” said Anne. 
“It’s so big and woodsy it makes me think 
of home.” 

Aunt Minty smiled at her. She didn’t 
say anything. 

That was the loveliest morning, all made 
out of sunshine, apple-blooms and bird- 
songs, and spangled with dewdrops. Effie 
and Johnny wandered about and waded in 
the brook. Aunt Minty and Anne sat un- 
der the trees and visited, dreamed, and 
drank in warmth and color and fragrances 
and song till they both felt all made over, 
somehow. 

By and by, Aunt Minty spread out a 
white table-cloth on the grass, set out all the 
good things from the big basket, and the 
266 


AN INDIAN VILLAGE 

lunch began. They were just in the midst 
of it, talking and laughing all at once, when 
Effie put up her hand and said softly: 

“Look — oh everybody — look quick!” 

When they had come into that story-book 
place, they had all felt that wonderful im- 
possible things had happened there and 
might begin to happen again at any radiant 
minute. And here was one right under 
their very eyes. Toddling along a little 
winding path, which came from the woods, 
was the most adorable, yellow-headed baby. 
He had on a white romper, rumpled and 
torn and soiled with woods earth, white 
half-hose, and blue strapped booties. 

“The darling,” cried Aunt Minty spring- 
ing to her feet. 

“Isn’t it the Valentine baby?” whispered 
Effie to Anne. 

Aunt Minty was already half way to the 
267 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


baby. He had seen the strange faces and 
was just getting a cry ready. But one look 
into Aunt Minty’s sweet motherly face 
changed his mind. He held out his hands 
and went straight into her open arms. 

“Uck-y,” he said, putting his head down 
on her shoulder. 

Anne and Effie and Johnny were all as 
near as possible to the lovely lost baby when 
something else happened. A big, hand- 
some bull-terrier, harnessed to a little four- 
wheeled cart, came bounding along the path 
from the woods. She walked straight to 
Aunt Minty’s side. 

“Woof?” she said anxiously. 

At the sound of the dog’s voice, the baby 
turned to her. When Aunt Minty set him 
down on the ground, he put both arms 
around the dog’s neck. The dog’s eyes 
fairly pleaded with Aunt Minty. She did 
268 


AN INDIAN VILLAGE 

so want to be understood. In her best fash- 
ion, she said, 

“This baby belongs to me. Please help 
me take him back where he belongs.” 

“You wonderful dog,” cried Aunt 
Minty. “You want us to help you, don’t 
you?” 

She lifted the baby into the little cart. 

“What next?” she said. 

Carefully the dog turned the cart around. 
Then she set off along the path toward the 
woods. It was plain she knew where she 
was going. And along with her went Aunt 
Minty, Anne, Effie and Johnny. 

“If she wasn’t so big and dignified,” said 
Effie, “she’d look like Fritzie.” 

“She looks like the moving picture dog,” 
Johnny said, “but the moving picture baby 
was smaller than this one.” 

“Babies grow,” said Anne thoughtfully. 

269 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“I think the baby looks like the Valentine 
baby,” said Effie. 

It was all exciting and unusual. The 
dog kept on slowly, because the path was 
rough and uneven, dipping into little hol- 
lows and climbing little hills. The baby sat 
quietly, dipping and rising with the cart 
as if he was quite used to this kind of travel. 
He cooed “Uck-y,” and “Ke-o.” It was 
plain that one of these words was his name 
and the other the dog’s. But which was 
which no one but the baby and the dog 
knew. 

They left the orchard for the woods. In 
a rough spot, the baby would have rolled 
out of the cart, if Johnny hadn’t caught and 
righted him. 

Probably he had fallen out there coming 
the other way. And as there had been no 
way of getting him back in, he had run 
away and the dog had followed him. 

270 


AN INDIAN VILLAGE 

On and on through the woods, the dog 
led the way. Anne and Effie kept close to 
him, on one side, and Johnny and Aunt 
Minty on the other. In one hand Aunt 
Minty still held an empty olive bottle. But 
no one noticed that. 

“I remember these woods well,” she said, 
as excited with their adventures as the other 
Clovers. “This road comes out soon in a 
cleared place shut in by hills. Brother 
Gem and I used to come over here to play. 
We built a playhouse once, I remember.” 

Already the woods were growing thinner. 
In a minute, they saw the cleared space. 
But it wasn’t just cleared space any more. 
As they came into it, they found it was the 
prettiest, completest little Indian village. 
There were tepees, with blazing fires before 
them. There were squaws and papooses. 
Down the streets, were Indian braves with 
271 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


bows, arrows, and tomahawks. One, who 
stood tall and straight among them, was 
evidently some great chief. And straight 
into the midst of all this, that lovely May 
noon, walked the dog dragging the cart and 
baby, Aunt Minty with her olive bottle, 
Anne, Effie, and Johnny. 

A man on a rise of ground not far away 
made frantic gestures. But the dog didn’t 
stop, of course. And where the dog and 
baby went there, too — even into an Indian 
village — went the excited Clover Bunch. 

They stepped bravely along between the 
tepees. None of the squaws paid the least 
attention to them, but went on with what 
they were doing, whatever it was. Could 
this lovely, fair haired, pink and white baby 
belong there? 

After a minute, one of the Indian braves 
said something to the chief. He looked at 
272 



“ In the midst of his fierce war-paint, the man’s 

EYES TWINKLED.” 













































* 




# 








































s> 















1 %■ 





































AN INDIAN VILLAGE 

the man on the hill. Then he looked at the 
advancing Clover Bunch. 

In the glory of his blanket, war-paint, and 
feathers, he came toward Aunt Minty. 

“Cleo,” he said to the dog, “take Lucky to 
the woods.” 

The dog turned at once and drew the cart 
away toward the woods. 

“You aren’t a real Indian after all,” cried 
Johnny in great disgust. 

“May I ask,” said Aunt Minty severely 
for her, one eye on the disappearing baby, 
“who you are? And what you are all do- 
ing here in my woods ?” 

In the midst of his fierce war-paint, the 
man’s eyes twinkled. 

“May I ask,” he said, “who you are, 
madam, and what you are doing here in the 
midst of my picture?” 

“Picture?” cried all the Clovers looking 
273 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 

about, and seeing for the first that the In- 
dian village didn’t look exactly real after 
all. 

“And of course it couldn’t be,” murmured 
Effie to Anne, “right here where Aunt Min- 
ty used to play.” 

“Are you the moving picture people?” 
cried Johnny, greatly excited and asking 
questions so fast there was no use trying to 
answer them. “Are we in a real live mov- 
ing picture? Will we be on a screen in 
Morrisville? Can we go, sometime, and 
see ourselves? Was it your dog I saw in 
the pictures there? Can I teach my dog to 
do tricks like her?” 

The man laughed at Johnny standing 
straight and eager before him. 

“One at a time, one at a time,” he said 
good-naturedly. “You’re surely in our 
picture now, but I don’t think we’ll put you 
274 


AN INDIAN VILLAGE 

on the screen. Not that you wouldn’t make 
an interesting scene,” he added. Then he 
turned to Aunt Minty. “I’m sorry about 
the woods, madam. I supposed they be- 
longed to the land over there.” He waved 
his hand toward the hills the other side of 
the little hollow in which the Indian Vil- 
lage had been set up. “Really though, we 
haven’t hurt them any.” 

“But we have hurt your picture,” said 
Aunt Minty, with quick good-natured 
understanding. “We must look a little 
out-of-place in an Indian village. I’m 
sorry. We’ll leave you just as soon as you 
tell us something about that blessed baby 
over there.” 

“That’s David Cary,” said the man. 
“We movie people call him Lucky. His 
father was killed in a railway accident, and 
his little mother became a member of our 
275 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


company. She died last winter, and left 
her baby to us. We all take care of him — 
I can assure you he’s a great favorite. He’s 
had parts ever since he was a tiny baby — 
your boy probably did see him in the pic- 
tures at Morrisville, and Cleo, the dog, 
too.” He smiled at Johnny’s eager face. 

“In this picture, Cleo rescues Lucky from 
these Indians. She’s a wonder — Cleo is. 
While they wait for their parts, she usually 
takes care of the baby. I suppose he tum- 
bled out of his cart this morning and ran 
off and she ran after him. Lucky’s getting 
too big to stay where we put him now. 
Really he needs better care than we can 
give him, much as we love him. You don’t 
know of a home around here — a good one — 
where we could put him and feel safe about 
him? His mother left him in my charge 
and I’d like to place him in a good home.” 

276 


AN INDIAN VILLAGE 

“I don’t know of any just now,” said 
Aunt Minty. 

“We adopt babies sometimes at Clover 
Patch,” said Johnny. “But we really need 
a dog more. You wouldn’t want to sell 
your dog, would you?” 

“Cleo?” said the man. “Cleo’s mine as 
long as she’s anybody’s. She doesn’t mind 
being part of a moving picture company. 
In fact, she doesn’t know any other kind of 
life. But Lucky’s different. He needs a 
real home and a real mother.” 

Aunt Minty glanced wistfully toward the 
child who had come back, Cleo close behind 
him. One of the squaws was playing with 
him. 

“Are you Miss Araminta Clover?” asked 
the man suddenly. 

Aunt Minty nodded. 

“Is your place called Clover Patch?” 

277 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


All the Clovers nodded this time, waiting 
anxiously for the man’s next words. 

“You haven’t seen a stray puppy there, 
have you?” 

“Oh, you’re the voice over the phone,” 
cried Effie. “We have put you down in 
our Fritz Book. Do you know anything 
about Fritz?” 

“Is my dog yours ?”cried Johnny at the 
same minute. 

“Fritz isn’t really ours,” said the man. 
“But he seems to think he is. He’s Cleo’s 
puppy. We sold him, last fall, to a lady 
in New York. She gave him to a Miss 
Dolly Miller, who lives at Lakeside, some- 
where in this part of the country. But 
Fritz won’t stay in his home — or anywhere 
else long. Every little while, he shows up 
here, just as much at home as Cleo. He 
loves Lucky. And the baby loves him al- 
278 


AN INDIAN VILLAGE 


most as much as he does Cleo. They have 
great frolics together, the old dog looking 
on to see that no harm comes to the baby. 
Then just as suddenly as Fritz came, he’s 
gone — and no one knows when he went or 
where, or anything about it.” 

The tall Indian stooped to pick up Lucky 
who had run down the street between the 
tepees to him. The little fellow put both 
arms around the chief’s neck and smiled 
sleepily at the Clovers. 

“The darling,” cried Aunt Minty. “He 
ought to have his nap this minute. You’re 
quite right, this isn’t the kind of life for him 
at all. I do hope you’ll find a good home 
for him — and soon. Well, children, we’ll 
go. We’re sorry about your picture, 
Mr. ” 

“Story,” said the Indian chief. “Sam 
Story. I’m rather glad you did walk into 
279 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


my picture, Miss Clover. Think you 
couldn't change your mind and take little 
David ?” 

Aunt Minty shook her head. 

“Three Clovers make quite a bunch,” 
she said. 


“But isn’t that your name, Anne?” cried 
Lissy. “Aren’t you Anne Story?” 

“And isn’t the baby Sam Story Jr.?” said 
Betty. 

“You married him,” cried Marjory. 

“That Indian chief,” said Martha in sur- 
prise. 

Anne laughed merrily. 

“But he wasn’t an Indian chief outside 
the picture, you know,” she said. “He’s 
quite the nicest man I know. If you’ll all 
stay till Saturday night, you can judge for 
yourselves. He’s coming to take me and 
the babies home with him.” 


280 


AN INDIAN VILLAGE 


“Does he still make moving pictures?” 
asked Martin. 

“Oh no,” said Anne. “We live on a great 
fruit farm in the center of the state.” 

“Perhaps Fritz would have his next house 
party there, and invite all of us,” suggested 
Betty, showing both her dimples. 

“I wish he would,” said Anne eagerly. 
“It’s the loveliest place in the world, or it 
would be if it wasn’t for Clover Patch. I 
never can decide which I love best. So I 
go back and forth. You must all come and 
tell me what you think about it,” she added. 

“We will,” said Joe. “I’m going to have 
a car of my own soon, and we’ll just run 
down.” 

“Please go on with the story,” begged 
Marjory. 


281 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 

L ATE that afternoon, when the Clo- 
vers reached home, they found a 
small brown and white puppy 
waiting eagerly for them. In his mouth 
was a letter the carrier had brought. Fritz 
offered it politely to Aunt Minty. 

Since she came back from the city, Aunt 
Minty had received several of these big 
important-looking letters. As soon as she 
read this one, she went to her desk to answer 
it. 

Anne sat down on the porch. Johnny 
and Fritz went to the garden. Johnny sat 
down on the bench and strange things hap- 
pened somewhere inside of him — in his 
282 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 


heart, or his head, or both. By and by he 
jumped up, dragged Fritz out of Effie’s new 
bachelor-buttons, where he was taking a 
nap, and took him to the barn. Here he 
tied him up. 

“You’ll stay mine till to-morrow morn- 
ing, anyway,” he said. 

Effie went to the telephone. Quite as if 
she was grown up, she hunted through the 
telephone book. She gave a number and 
talked to somebody, asking several questions. 
Then she went upstairs, wrote a letter, ad- 
dressed it to “Miss Dolly Miller, Lake- 
side,” and ran all the way to the post-office 
with it that it might go that night. She 
took the one Aunt Minty had been writ- 
ing, too. 

That night, when Johnny went to bed, he 
asked Aunt Minty about where Mr. Sam 
Story had said the moving picture people 
283 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 

stayed when they weren’t out making pic- 
tures. 

“They’ve a sort of little colony, or village, 
near Morrisville,” said Aunt Minty. 
“Their address is in the telephone book. 
And Johnny-boy, Anne and I think it was 
a moving picture army you saw last winter 
from your snow-house.” 

“It looked so real,” said Johnny wonder- 
ingly. “But, so did that Indian village at 
first. I’d like to be in the moving pictures, 
wouldn’t you, Aunt Minty?” 

Aunt Minty didn’t think she would. 

Next morning, at the breakfast table, 
Johnny said, “I’m going away awhile this 
morning, Aunt Minty. Now, please don’t 
think I’m lost — ’cause I’m not.” 

“Where to, Johnny-boy?” said Aunt 
Minty. Aunt Minty’s eyes were so twinkly 
and bright this morning that even Johnny 
284 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 

noticed them, and wondered what nice 
thing was going to happen. But they didn’t 
really seem to see him, though she looked 
straight at him. 

He mumbled an answer into his napkin 
as he left the table. But no one asked him 
any more questions. The truth was, every 
one was so full of her own plans that she 
couldn’t think much about anybody else’s. 

“I’m going to Morrisville,” said Aunt 
Minty after Johnny had left the room. 
“Want to go, Effie? I can take one of 
you.” 

“No, thank you,” said Effie, adding im- 
portantly, “I’ve some business to attend to, 
Aunt Minty.” 

“You, little Anne?” 

Anne shook her head, smiling a little 
wistfully. 

“I’m busy, too,” she said. 

285 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“What a busy Clover Bunch!” laughed 
Aunt Minty as she hurried upstairs. 

If the sun watched that morning, he must 
have had some extra smiles to see the strange 
things that happened at Clover Patch. 

First, while Aunt Minty and Effie were 
busy upstairs, down the hill toward Morris- 
ville went little Anne. She trundled a go- 
cart In it was a little cushion marked 
with a rosy “C.” 

An hour later, Aunt Minty drove down 
the same hill. 

When she was safely out of the way, 
Johnny slid out of the barn. In both hands 
he clutched one end of a long rope. At the 
other end of the rope was an unwilling 
brown and white puppy. Johnny pulled 
one way, Fritz pulled the other. But some- 
how, both pulling and jumping, down the 
long hill they went. 

286 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 


After every one else had gone, down that 
same hill went Effie. She carried the 
Fritz Book and a pocket-book. 

The sun was interested. These people 
were all going his way. So he kept them 
in sight. By and by, shining into Mr. Sam 
Story’s office, just outside Morrisville, he 
saw enter a red-faced young woman with a 
go-cart. 

“Please,” said Anne breathlessly to Mr. 
Sam Story, “I’ve come for David.” 

Then, because every one did tell him 
things, Anne told Mr. Sam Story all about 
things at Clover Patch — how she hadn’t any 
home really, and was just staying there; 
how she knew Aunt Minty dreadfully 
wanted to adopt a baby, but felt she couldn’t. 
“You heard her say that three Clovers made 
quite a bunch,” Anne reminded Mr. Sam 
Story. “But that baby ought to have a 
287 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


home, and Clover Patch ought to have a 
baby.” 

Then Anne told Mr. Sam Story all about 
the Clover room and something about how 
it came to be made. 

“As for me,” she went on, “I can get 
along. I’m quite grown up.” 

She finished as quickly as she could, for 
Mr. Sam Story seemed to understand just 
how little and all-alone-by-herself she felt, 
how near June was, and everything else. 

But before he could say anything, into the 
office came Aunt Minty, herself, bright- 
eyed and bustling. 

“I’ve come to take that baby,” she said 
in her brisk, business-like manner. “I 
can’t bear to think of his needing just the 
home and care I can give him. Besides, 
I’ve such a habit of adopting babies now — ” 

She stopped short at sight of Anne. 

288 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 

“I’ve come for him, too,” said Anne. “I 
know you wanted him. And I’ve brought 
his go-cart.” 

Mr. Sam Story telephoned to some one 
he called “Jeff” to bring little David Cary 
over to the office. Out of the corner of one 
eye, Mr. Sam Story saw Aunt Minty’s arm 
go around little Anne as if it meant to stay 
there, or at least stay near enough to get 
there if Anne needed an arm to help her. 

He’d just hung up the receiver, when 
outside the door, there was a yelp and a 
whine. Then into the room bounded Fritz, 
dragging Johnny behind him. 

“Oh please, Mr. Sam Story,” cried 
Johnny, with what breath he had left, “do 
take him and keep him. He’s yours — or 
anyway, he isn’t mine, I suppose. It’s been 
dreadful getting him to come. Do please 
keep him or send him where he belongs. 

289 


MARJORY’S HOUSE PARTY 


Because, if he keeps coming to me, maybe 
— I can’t — keep on — giving him up!” 

Johnny’s voice sounded as if he couldn’t 
say much more just then. 

“Johnny-boy,” cried Aunt Minty. Her 
voice made Johnny happy all the way 
through. He was so glad he’d decided, 
hard as it had been, to give up Fritz. He 
sat down in a chair beside Aunt Minty. 
Fritz climbed up in his lap. 

Then into the office came Effie. 

“I saw you start off with Fritz, Johnny,” 
she said. “And I couldn’t think where you 
were going. But what did you come for, 
Aunt Minty? And Anne? I’ve come to 
buy Fritz, if Miss Dolly Miller will sell 
him. I’ve written to her. I’ve money I 
earned picking raspberries.” 

“Miss Dolly will be here soon,” said Mr. 
Sam Story. “I ’phoned her this morning I 
290 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 


had news of Fritz. She really owns him 
you see. Here she is, now.” 

When Miss Dolly Miller came into the 
dingy little office somehow she seemed to 
fill it with life and color. At sight of her, 
Fritz jumped to the floor, walked up, and 
offered her his paw. 

“You blessed puppy,” cried the girl. 
“You do remember to shake hands, don’t 
you. Where have you been, old runaway?” 

She dropped down on the floor to shake 
hands with Fritz. Then Mr. Sam Story 
introduced her to the Clover Bunch. As 
she went from one to another, Fritz went 
along, too. 

Of course it took some time for every one 
to tell all he knew about Fritz and his 
wanderings. Dolly Miller, who was, of 
course, Johnny’s bicycle girl, began: 

The summer before, visiting her aunt in 
291 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


New York, they had seen some unusual 
moving pictures of a dog and a baby. 
They had been so interested in the dog that 
they had found out all they could about her. 
They traced her to the moving pictures near 
New York, of which Mr. Sam Story was 
manager. When they found that Cleo had 
a puppy, named Fritz, Dolly’s aunt had 
bought him for Dolly. Dolly’s cousin 
Fred had brought her to her own home, in 
Lakeside, not far from Morrisville, in his 
car. 

“I wanted to drive the car,” laughed 
Dolly, “so we stowed Fritz, basket and all, 
away in the back. I didn’t do very well 
at driving. The car went bumpity-bump- 
ing in the road and out of it. I was so 
interested I forgot all about Fritz until we 
were almost home. When we couldn’t find 
him anywhere, Fred turned around, and 
292 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 

we went back for miles. We couldn’t find 
a trace of him anywhere. He was a valu- 
able dog and Fred thought perhaps some 
one had stolen him out of the car at Morris- 
ville, where we stopped a few minutes.” 

“He must have bounded out of your car 
into my lilacs,” said Aunt Minty. 

“With his rattle,” said Effie. “That and 
the basket were the first clues for our Fritz 
Book.” 

“That rattle?” chuckled Mr. Sam Story. 
“That was Lucky’s. Fritz was so attached 
to it, that when he went away from us with 
Miss Dolly, we let it go, too.” 

“I never found out anything about 
Fritz,” went on Dolly, “till Thanksgiving 
Day. I went to Keen to meet some cousins 
who didn’t come. And there in the station, 
all alone, as if he was waiting for the train, 
293 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


sat Fritz. I carried him home in a basket 
on my wheel.” 

“I saw you,” cried Johnny, “from Uncle 
Gem Clover’s roof.” 

“The girl on the wheel,” murmured Effie. 

“He stayed with me till about Christmas 
time,” said Dolly. “Then away he went 
again.” 

“That time, he showed up here,” said Mr. 
Sam Story. “Though how he knew we’d 
come up here from New York, only he 
knows. Of course we’d known that Miss 
Dolly had lost him, and then found him, 
but before we could get him back to her, 
this time, he’d vanished, taking one of 
Lucky’s new shoes with him.” 

“The baby’s shoe,” whispered Effie to 
Anne, who nodded. 

“I tried to ’phone Miss Dolly,” said Mr. 

294 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 


Sam Story, “but there was a big storm, the 
wires were crossed — and — ” 

“The man’s voice over the ’phone,” said 
Effie. “But how did we happen to hear it?” 

“I tried to get Clover Patch too, you 
see,” explained Mr. Story. “I’d heard of 
a lost or found puppy there.” 

“What a darling baby,” cried Dolly, as 
the door opened, and a tall young man 
came in, carrying Lucky. 

Dolly reached eagerly for the baby. 
Fritz capered about her, then stood on his 
hind feet and reached his paws up toward 
David Cary. David was wild with joy at 
sight of the puppy. 

“Fit-zie, Fitzie!” he cooed. 

“Please,” begged Anne, “oh please, every- 
body, do let me take him.” 

She took David Cary in her arms. He 
295 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


pulled off her hat and reached for her curls. 
She carried him to Aunt Minty. 

“I must be the one to give him to you,” 
she said, setting the laughing David in Aunt 
Minty’s waiting arms. “Now I’ve made 
everything just as right as I can,” she told 
herself. 

“We’ll attend to the business of adoption 
a little later,” said Aunt Minty to Mr. Sam 
Story. “I want him to be David Cary Clo- 
ver — my very own child.” 

“He is Lucky all right, Miss Clover,” 
said Mr. Story, “to find such a home and 
such a mother. Now, let’s all go out some- 
where and have the best lunch we can find 
to celebrate.” 

On the way to the hotel, Dolly, Johnny, 
Anne, and Effie had a long talk. 

“I can’t sell him to you, Effie,” Dolly 
said anxiously. “Because Aunt Dorothy 
296 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 


would be hurt. She’d searched the longest 
time to find just the right puppy for me. 
And Fritz is a dear, if he does run away. 
But let’s make a bargain. When he comes 
to me, he’s mine, and I’ll keep him as long 
as he’ll stay. And when he comes to Clover 
Patch, he’s yours, Johnny, and you keep 
him.” 

When they sat down* at the table in the 
dining-room, before they could think at all 
about what they’d like for lunch, Effie took 
out the Fritz Book, Anne wrote down the 
agreement, Dolly signed it, and each mem- 
ber of the Clover Detective Force signed it, 
too. 

That was a wonderful lunch. There was 
so much to eat and so much to talk about, 
that it was nearly two o’clock when they 
had finished. At the office, of Mr. Sam 
Story, they found a very anxious Fritz wait- 
297 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


ing for them. He rode away in the basket 
in front of Dolly on the bicycle. He 
seemed pleased with the arrangement that 
had been made for him. His head bobbed 
up and down over the edge of the basket 
like some new kind of Jack in the Box. To 
the last his bright eyes were fixed, upon 
Lucky. 

“He’ll come to Clover Patch,” said Mr. 
Sam Story. “And if anything on earth can 
keep him there, it will be Lucky. But I 
don’t think anything can keep him from 
roving. Fritz ought to join a circus.” 

Lucky rode to his new home in Anne’s 
lap. Aunt Minty drove. Effie sat be- 
tween them. Johnny perched behind and 
dragged the go-cart by the rope that had 
brought Fritz to Clover Patch in the morn- 
ing. 

“Wouldn’t we make a splendid moving 
picture?” he exclaimed. 

298 


A FOUR LEAF CLOVER 


Some hours later, when the new Clover 
was being put to bed in the Clover room, 
Effie made one of her happy discoveries. 

“Why, he’s Lucky Clover,” she cried. 

This gave Aunt Minty just the chance 
she’d been waiting for. 

“That’s what the fourth clover leaf al- 
ways is,” she said. Her words and some- 
thing in her voice and her smile brought 
Anne, breathless and questioning, to her 
side. 

“The — fourth — clover — leaf?” she cried. 
“What do you mean, Aunt Minty? 
There’ll be only three after I’m gone.” 

“You’re not going, little Anne,” said Aunt 
Minty. “Oh, did you think I could let 
you go now, after I’ve once had you? I 
found out I couldn’t do that, last spring. 
So I went to the city to find out about you.” 

“About me?” cried little Anne. 

299 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“About you/’ said Aunt Minty. “I 
found those cousins of yours. They told 
me all they knew. I wanted to be sure if 
I took you some one with a better right 
wouldn’t come along and take you away. 
It’s taken some time to get all the legal 
points looked up and straightened out. 
But it’s all done now. A letter, yesterday, 
made everything all right. You’re to be 
Anne Clover of Clover Patch just as long 
as you want to be. And you’re to give up 
school teaching when this term ends and 
help me bring up David and all the other 
babies I may see fit to take.” 

Anne couldn’t say a word. Two great 
bright tears ran down her cheeks. Aunt 
Minty reached over and held her close for 
a minute. Effie and Johnny crowded about 
them. David waved his fists. 

“Uck-y Ko-ver,” he crowed. 

300 


CHAPTER XIX 


FRITZ HOLDS A RECEPTION 


L ITTLE Anne stopped reading. 

“Please go on,” begged Marjory. 
“That’s all,” said Anne. 

“But — but what became of everybody?” 
cried Martha. 

“Why, we’re all here, aren’t we?” laughed 
little Anne. “All the Clover Bunch — and 
two little Story babies besides?” 

“But what happened next?” cried Mar- 
jory. “Do, please, Anne, tell us everything 
about everybody.” 

“Well,” said Anne, “there isn’t much to 
tell. You know I married Sam Story — ” 
“How did you happen to?” said Martha. 
“Because he wanted me to, and I wanted 
301 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


to,” said Anne. “But that’s quite a long 
story all by itself — ” 

“Oh do please write it, Anne, for us,” 
said Betty. 

“What became of Fritz?” said Roger. 
“Did he stay with Dolly?” 

“Not long at a time,” said Anne. “He 
came often to Clover Patch. But as long 
as Dolly lived at Lakeside, he went back 
and forth, and we don’t know, of course, 
how many other places he called home. 
Next spring Dolly went away from Lake- 
side for good. She lives with her aunt now. 
She left Fritz with us, but he didn’t stay 
long. He ran away and was gone so long 
we gave him up. Once we heard that 
there was a dog something like him in a 
circus in Morrisville. After that, Effie, 
Johnny, and I always went to circuses hop- 
ing to see him. But we never did. After 
302 


FRITZ HOLDS A RECEPTION 


a long, long time, he began coming to Clo- 
ver Patch again, now and then. Once Un- 
cle Ben Baker saw him here and told us 
he was Joe’s dog and lots of things about 
him and about Joe and Betty and Nancy 
and the Marties.” 

“Wasn’t it just splendid of Fritz to bring 
us all together for this house party?” said 
Lissy, hugging Fritz. 

“And the very best part of this house 
party, lovely as it all has been, is Anne’s 
story,” said Betty. 

“Do you like it, really?” said Anne anx- 
iously. 

She asked them all, but her blue eyes 
looked straight at Aunt Minty. 

Such a shout of approval went up that 
she couldn’t hear what Aunt Minty said. 
But her smile was enough. 

When they had talked over Anne’s story 
303 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


from beginning to end, and had wondered 
this, that, and the other, Nancy Spindle 
suddenly cried, 

“Everybody listen — just a minute. The 
wind’s stopped blowing.” 

Sure enough, it had grown strangely still 
out-of-doors. And when they all flocked 
to the window there were the stars twin- 
kling down at them. 

“It’s still inside, too,” laughed Aunt 
Minty. “See, children, the old clock is so 
amazed to see you up at this time, that it’s 
stopped.” 

“Isn’t it funny,” said Marjory on their 
way up-stairs, “not to know what time we’re 
going to bed?” 

Next morning, the house party awoke to 
find the whitest of worlds shining under the 
bluest of skies. As soon as breakfast was 
over, the boys went out to help Jake break 
304 


FRITZ HOLDS A RECEPTION 


out the roads. Two big horses were hitched 
to a great black soap kettle. The children 
had never seen anything like that kettle. 
And Aunt Minty said it had lived in her 
family long before she could remember. 
It made a first-rate snow-plough. Other 
farmers turned out too with horses and 
good-natured voices. And about noon, 
down the snowy road between great drifts, 
came a big sleigh piled high with robes. 
In it were Susy’s father and Uncle Ben 
Baker. 

Every one had a good hot dinner. Then, 
bundled till Martha couldn’t be told from 
Marjory, except that she made much the 
bigger bundle, the house party was loaded 
into the sleigh. All the Clovers from Aunt 
Minty to little Sam Story, Jr., were invited 
by Joe and Betty and Marjory to come to 
New York for a visit the very first chance 
305 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


they could find. Then the good-byes were 
said. And the procession started. First 
went Jake with the Clover horses to make a 
better track. Then came the big sleigh full 
of little folks, with Uncle Ben driving. 
Then came Molly and her little red cutter 
with Susy’s father driving. And on the 
seat, stiff and straight as a drum-major, his 
tail thumping like a baton, sat Fritz. 

“Jingle-jangle,” cried the big bells on the 
big sleigh to the little bells behind on the 
little red cutter. And “Jingle jingle-jing,” 
laughed back the little chimes gaily. 

“But I can’t see,” said Nancy Spindle 
as they tunneled along through the great 
drifts, “how we ever got to Clover Patch 
that night.” 

“You found a cross-cut across the fields,” 
said Uncle Ben. “In summer there is sort 
306 


FRITZ HOLDS A RECEPTION 


of a road there, and probably Fritz, or 
Molly, or both, knew about it.” 

“I’ll never forget how Betty disappeared 
in the snow-storm that day,” said Joe. 

“She looked exactly as if she was flying,” 
said Lissy. 

“I felt as if I was,” laughed Betty. 
“And I’ll never forget how good that light 
from Clover Patch looked coming nearer 
and nearer through the snow.” 

“Hasn’t it been wonderful?” cried Mar- 
jory. 

♦Glenmore and the The Willows proved 
to be a long way off by the regular road. 
And the big sleigh and the little red cutter 
had to go very slowly and carefully. Once 
there was so much snow in the road Susy’s 
father had to get out and hold up the big 
sleigh on one side while it went round a 
corner. Once every one had to get out and 
307 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


walk for a short distance bn snowshoes. 
Even during this Fritz rode in the cutter, 
tipping perilously, but balancing somehow, 
and barking madly all the while. 

The short afternoon was almost gone, 
when at last, “right side up with care,” as 
Joe said, the house, party jingle-jangled into 
the yard of The Willows. Grandma Beach 
quite forgot to be dignified as she welcomed 
her family back again. As for Granny, she 
hugged every one twice over, even Joe to 
whose shoulder she didn’t quite reach. 
Aunt Eunice smiled and nodded her head, 
then shook it slightly as she regretted over 
and over that a storm should have seen fit 
to come in the very middle of her little 
grand-nieces’ visit. And Celia helped 
every one unwrap and get warm and ready 
for the good supper she was preparing. 

All but Susy — she had to go on with her 
308 


FRITZ HOLDS A RECEPTION 


father and Molly. The Ben Baker Bunch 
was to stay all night at The Willows. At 
the very last minute, Fritz scampered off 
after the red cutter and its jingling bells. 

“I’m sorry to lose so much time here with 
the Grandmas,” said Marjory, as she and 
Lissy went sleepily to bed in the very early 
evening. “But I shall always be glad Fritz 
took us to Clover Patch.” 

“Wasn’t it funny that he should take it 
into his head to go home with Susy?” said 
Lissy. “Isn’t he the funniest dog that ever 
lived anyway?” 

“He loves Molly,” said Marjory. “Oh 
Lissy, were you ever so sleepy in all your 
life before? I don’t believe I’ll ever wake 
up in the morning. And day after to-mor- 
row we go home.” 

It was almost noon next day when Mar- 
jory and Lissy came down-stairs. 

309 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


They found the Ben Baker Bunch all 
there except Martha, who was still sound 
asleep. And Fritz had returned from 
Susy’s. And Susy had just ’phoned to know 
if he’d come all right. 

“She said he just loved the baby,” said 
Betty, “and the baby loved him.” 

Just here the telephone jingled again. 
This time it was Mr. Brooke in New York. 
He had just received a letter from Grandma 
Beach telling how the storm had broken 
up the children’s visit with them. And he 
said they might stay over until Monday. 
And even while Marjory and Lissy clapped 
their hands over the prospect of three more 
whole days at The Willows, Betty and Joe 
and Nancy Spindle and Martin and Fritz 
decided they’d stay, too. 

“Three whole days,” Marjory said over 
and over. And to look forward to them 
310 


FRITZ HOLDS A RECEPTION 


they looked delightfully long. But they 
were packed so full of good times, both 
indoors and outdoors, that almost at once, 
there were two whole days, then “only one 
day more.” 

“And it seems just a minute since we 
started,” said Marjory, when they all found 
their places in the chair-car on the long 
train that stopped at Glenmore just long 
enough to pick them up. 

It was a very gloomy Fritz that Joe led 
away to his place in the baggage-car. And 
when Joe came back, he looked almost as 
unhappy. 

“I’ll have to stay with him,” he said. 
“He acts so, no one will bother with him. 
He always does when he has to ride in the 
baggage-car. I say, one of you come along, 
too.” 

Somehow, Betty thought Joe would want 
311 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


her. And somehow, Nancy Spindle 
thought Joe would want her . Marjory was 
sure she was the one to go. And if she 
went, Roger must go and Lissy, too. But 
Martin felt it was his duty to help Joe out, 
and where Martin went, his Twin went. 
So, it happened that the porter, coming up 
the aisle, saw the whole bunch suddenly 
come to its feet, quite as if moved by springs, 
all crying, 

I’ll go!” and “I’ll go, too!” 

Perhaps because Joe’s father and Mar- 
jory’s father both had something quite im- 
portant to do with this very railroad, per- 
haps the size of the bill Joe had in his hand, 
perhaps because it was much easier to go 
along with such an eager crowd of little 
folks than it was to head it off, influenced 
the porter. Anyhow, he said something to 
the conductor, who glanced them over and 
312 


FRITZ HOLDS A RECEPTION 


smiled. Then, grinning broadly, the porter 
took the whole laughing chattering crowd 
down the aisles of the coaches till they came 
to the baggage-car where a justly indignant 
Fritz kept two trainmen busy trying to hold 
him. 

Around Fritz they all gathered. And 
Fritz was the happiest dog that ever was. 
It was quite like a reception to which many 
of his friends had come. He sat up, he 
shook hands with them, he gave quick, glad, 
little barks of welcome and delight. 

“I never saw anything like it,” said one 
of the trainmen looking on. “That dog’s 
almost human. He ought to have a write- 
up in a paper.” 

“He’s going to be in a book,” said Mar- 
jory proudly. 

“Isn’t it lovely,” cried Betty, “that Anne’s 
story has told us so much about him when 
he was a pupp> ’ 


313 


MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY 


“Wasn’t it the best story?” cried Nancy. 

“There’s just one thing,” said Marjory. 

“What?” cried every one except Fritz, 
who cocked his head to listen. 

“I do so want to know about the between- 
times,” said Marjory. 

“The between- times?” said Martha. 

“Yes,” said Marjory. She turned to the 
dog. “What did you do, Fritzie, after you 
left Clover Patch before you joined the 
circus, and how did you come to join the 
circus?” 

“As I remember it, Mar,” said Joe, “one 
of the men found Fritz running along the 
road not far from the tents and just brought 
him in.” 

“But where was he running from and 
where was he running to?” cried Marjory. 

“Ask Fritz,” laughed Joe. 

314 


FRITZ HOLDS A RECEPTION 


Fritz rolled his bright eyes gravely from 
one to another of them. 

“That’s my secret,” he said, as plainly as 
a dog could. 


THE END 


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